Gertie, the psychic angel seer

As a new reader to my writings, you wouldn’t realize it but I’ve become a regular philosopher these days. Odd, I must be premenstrual. Oh wait, actually it’s a bit late for that so make that ‘post’. Yes, that’s what it is: I must be ‘postmenstrual’ so, therefore, I am cleverer than usual. That is my theory anyway, and I am sticking to it.

Recently I read something that jarred my emotions. It outlined the love story of a blind girl and her boyfriend who donated his eyes to her so that she would have the gift of sight, only for her to turn around at the end and decide that she couldn’t love a blind person. The story itself was desperately sad, but what got to me more was the picture of the pair of eyes, I actually got hoender vleis! And then my very own personal memory lane started to unwind its narrow road and show itself to me:

In my teenage rebellious days we frequented a place called Rockies, short for Rockafellas. It was the bees knees, I tell you. The people who went there were mostly hippie like and stoned, I assume. This of course meant that they walked around with glazed eyes and far too much free love for anyone willing to receive it.

One local patron that stands out in my memory was a sixty year old man known as Gertie. With wrinkles around his eyes, snow white shoulder length hair and a ready smile, Gertie made friends with anyone, even in his tie-dyed blue and purple shirts. He had facial expressions that told one that he’d been there, done that and had run around the block one too many times. Out of all his prominent features, his enormous blue eyes stood out the most. They almost appeared to be made of glass and I’ll admit that they made the hairs on my neck stand up when he looked in me. I say ‘in’ on purpose as he would never look ‘at’ someone, he’d look ‘in’ them.

I recall him telling me once that my aura was pure white and purple, that I was destined for a journey companion in way I would never expect, that I had a very wise and special angel looking over me who would make me think of him years from now. At the time I thought he was a joke and had smoked far too much of the green stuff. I was only sixteen and had no ambition of ever wanting a ‘wise and special angel’ to look after me. I was invincible and made of steel!

If only I could see him today. I would want to tell him how right he had been all those years ago. Motherhood was a journey that hit me in a way that I never expected. I never expected to fall pregnant at 18, I never expected to look after my daughter in hospital for three months, or have her at home with me on oxygen for four. I never expected to plan my own child’s funeral and I most certainly never expected to have my own child born with those very same enormous blue eyes made of glass that used to look up at me and see right into my soul.

He was right, you know. It turns out that I do have a little angel, who was wise and is looking over me. She better be, anyway. I could do with some form of guidance in my life, even if on another parallel.

Today I drove passed an old man wearing a tie-dyed shirt hitchhiking. It made me think of him and his, at the time, disbelieved theory. Do we ever believe what we don’t want to?


  1. Amy says:

    See now, sometimes things people say make no sense at all and its only in retrospect that you look at them and go ” Ah….so thats what they meant! ”

    Oh, and PS : I have i read post similar to this before?

  2. Stef says:

    now this post gave me hoendervleis! great postmenstrual philosophy~ me likes 🙂

    i wonder what color my aura is?

  3. gwen says:

    Can you believe I saw Gertie this morning standing on the bridge to Port Shepstone gazing out to see and I remember you telling me about this particular incident. I still looked at him and thought what a free spirit he is and how I wish he could tell me a thing or to about me ……….. or would that scare me.

  4. mulletized says:

    Love this post! Ive met a few people like Gertie, and I partly touched on in my drunk saint post. That while Gertie might seem like a stoner bum to most people, he may in fact be the Angel he talks about.

    I remember there was this Tibetan monk who followed me in a shopping center when I was about 13. I was freaked out when he finally came up to me and touched me on the shoulder. He gave me a book. He said that it was meant for me, and he wanted no money for it. I dont know what happened to the book. I tried to read it in secret (my christian mom thought it was the work of the devil), but it was seriously over my head at the time. But I’ll always remember this guy – his face a photograph in my head. That he saw something in me. And the subtle affect at a young age was that it gave me the confidence to ‘see something’ in me over time. You could argue he was just missioning to peddle his religion, but that isnt what i believe. That book was meant for me just like Gertie was meant to tell you about the angel he sees. Its difficult to really know the true impact of something like that. The stength it gave you might even be unknown to you.

  5. cathjenkin says:

    this is just like those people who would stop and give me flowers randomly whilst i waiting at the busstop.

    One guy said to me, ‘you’re here every day. its where your life begins’…
    whilst the guy singing “i have no legs” was singing on by.

    And then, there you were, Sheena, and so was Garry.

    And we didnt even know it then. WAH

  6. shebee says:

    Aims – yes, an edited version of something before 🙂

    Stef – I would say purple 😛

    Mom – I cannot believe you saw him this morning! You are right, we are very very connected psychosymatically.

    Mullet – wow, that is an AMAZING story! Don’t you wish you could get hold of that book now? I’d be so curious to see what the message was.

    Cath – it is, just like the feathers and the R12 man. xoxox

    Chesie – thanks babe x

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