It happened to me in my 14th summer, on a cool, fateful day in Woolworths. My big sister Anne and I were wandering the aisles when a tall, shiny weight scale called to us and we approached, lean and unafraid.

It offered up a zodiac scroll, my first, and I anxiously unfurled this curled enigma.."Your perfect mate is Gemini" it began.."Johnny is a Gemini!" Annie blared and I knew we'd found the Holy Grail.

1971. Don't do the math.

Six months later Johnny was long forgotten when Anne blew my tiny mind with "Linda Goodman's Sun Signs, the hot blue bestseller that ignited the New Age. Beautifully written and so brutally true it's laugh-out-loud funny.

Total gamechanger. I finally understood that it's only natural to be me and not "more like your sweet little..." diabolical sister, who scripted our family chaos and cursed me with the scapegoat role. I was no match for this wily whopper weaver, I wasn't clever, just reactive, so I roared like a raging lion and cried myself to sleep a lot. Perfect casting. Only natural to be her, too.

"Nooo Ma! She's lyyyiiing!!!"

(Some experiences can cut so deep they lay tracks on your heart that attract the walking wounded. Something about suppressing trauma and leaky energy.)

So I clung to Sun Signs like a lifeline through the early years of high school. "What's your sign?" I asked every face and read to the ones who indulged me, hundreds between school and the city buses alone. Good times.

The 70s were a heady time. Anne and I hit some of the hottest astrology lectures around Hahvid Squeya and lucked into a lecture with Isabel Hickey. She singled me out for a public dissection at barely seventeen, a mortifying intro to the planetary frequencies and a true EUREKA! Moment.

It was 1974 when a burst of serendipity brought New York City radio astrologer Paul Guercio to our city. Even better, he was just down the road from Friendly's and we were two Friendly girls, looking for a little enlightenment.

Paul soon turned up at our double doors, like all hardcore coffee drinkers do. We pumped him with free refills and he charmed us with his booming vocals, confiding his scheme to burn the Cosmic Muffin and show Boston how a real astrologer operates. Then he said these fateful words: "Come to my classes, girls. I'm just down the road and I bet you two love floor pillows." Well duh.
So we sauntered down to 83 Sycamore to expand our minds in cozy comfort. Life was good. And I almost knew it through the haze of lingering trauma.

One seven year Saturn cycle later, Paul and I were roomies. I booked his consultations and he (ahem) mentored me for four instructive years. Annie went off to make babies and awhile later I did too. It's what Somerville townies do. Paul said so. I don't think it was a compliment.

And in our roomie days I'd witnessed his burnout after too many consultations when desperate seekers sucked him dry, and I knew it wasn't for me. I doubted I'd learn to safely drive my own life and I had no desire to drive anyone else's. There was a lot to ponder and somehow astrology would be my destination.

So I thought a how-to book might be in the stars. I'd simplify the vital parts so anyone could map their own landscape and none would get lost in the weeds. No head spins or eye rolls from my how-to book, or forget the whole thing.

And we'd surely all be wiser if astrology were taught along with the 3Rs, advancing us through the grades like best friends for life.

Imagine flying over your 1000 acres 1000 times and finally seeing a full map. "So that small hill is a cavern with singing waterfalls and dancing emeralds?!"

It's great to hear your inner landscape described, but seeing is knowing. And it's a lot simpler to read your 'map' than you may think.

Much more was ahead to shape my dream and I guess I'm a little slow, so it's possible I'll die first. That's Taurus rising for ya. But dreams can't die or life would be udderly hopeless. So it's back to the past where the future feels like endless time to chew my cud and ponder...

So I was settled in Lexington in '91 when a Good_man blew into town to open the very first Copy Plus ( a whole lot more.) And a copy shop with lots of options was just what I needed to materialize my fledgling concepts. Only three seasons later this charming and handsome triple Aries Mac Wizard
wooed me into his arms and my feet stopped touching the ground.

4th dimensional rendering

As time passed, the Wizard taught me computer skills and helped me build my website. I did a (very) little writing and we raised our beautiful blended family. The blessed being conceived in love inspired more concepts and he finally arrived on the solstice like he was having second thoughts. Life was Good, man.

MEANWHILE...
Paul was following his passion for political forecasting when a government physicist approached him with a proposal to develop a forecasting graph with his programmer. It was an offer Paul couldn't refuse. A few months later they had 'TimeTraks'. It was 1993 and they took it on the road as The Merlin Project, even a threefer on Larry King!

In 2016 Paul hired me to help with a flood of inquiries after the TimeTraks predicted what no one else had, a Trump-Sanders face-off. But free will had the final say and Bernie seemed to back away (twice now). And not even a ruthless, invincible will can trump a low energy TimeTrak.

In 2019 Paul died suddenly (before it was all the rage) after a devastating betrayal. But he left this world a little wiser and no one can take that from anyone.
The physicist departed with the TimeTraks and that was that.

Paul was my friend, mentor and tormentor, who taught me, Anne and all his students to 'keep it simple'. Because simple makes astrology more accessible and not less profound. His friendship and coattails are sorely missed.

Thanks for visiting. I hope you find my autodidactic views useful.
('audodidact' sounds so capable and it sure beats 'dropout')