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The dentist froze. Then turned toward Ray, a soft smile on his face. His eyes dancing, he put his hands together as if in prayer and responded. “I know, I had this vision. Looking at you on the swing I saw Jesus, the face of Jesus crying.”
By Ron JonesAugust 1986Inner voice as intuitive guide, the undeniable presence of a voice, the voice of silence
By Our ReadersJuly 1986I like Ramona. I want to win the lottery, pay her brother back for the car, bounce her and the baby out of the attic apartment.
By Elizabeth Rose CampbellJune 1986One comes for a day or two, and then advertises that one has “studied under Milton Erickson.” This means you can charge $1,000 a day for seminars. Few pay attention to the fact that the master himself only charges $25 a day for visitors. I think I love him for that reason if for no other.
By Lorenzo W. MilamMay 1986The Home for Refined Ladies was an old, turreted, red-brick building converted from a Catholic girls’ academy which had moved to a newer building in a better part of Dubuque, Iowa, up on the hills overlooking the Mississippi.
By Karlton KelmDecember 1985So we were near the end of two and a half hours of long-distance conversation, an eternal friend and I, and we were finally getting around to the good stuff: the war between the sexes.
By D. Patrick MillerOctober 1985I did my job. I picked her up when her mother threw her away, I handed her over to the shrink when the time came. I did my job. I’m the stepmother, not abnormally wicked.
By Su FidlerSeptember 1985Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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