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About five or six years ago I did a small group reading for a bunch of ladies on a Halloween who lived way out in the country. The husband of the house didn’t want to stay around so he took a friend coon hunting. The group lasted way too long, but the information keep coming and I was hitting home runs all night. Around midnight I called it off. The husband and his friend walked in the door surprised that I was still there. His wife begged me to do a mini reading for him because he was such a big skeptic.

I asked for a spirit to come through for him and his grandfather popped in. I told him what his grandfather looked like and his friend said all grandfathers look like that! I told him he drove a Chevy pick-up truck and the friend said everybody that’s lived in the country has had Chevy truck before! I said to Grandpa in my mind, knock his socks off or I’m leaving right now.

I said, it was a red ’57 Chevy with the passenger side floorboard rusting out and shotgun shells rolling around in the glove box and Grandpa left the tailgate off to make it easier for the coon hounds and bird dogs to jump in the back. Then he named his favorite coon hound. Now both of the men stood there with their mouths dropped open.

Grandpa went on to name his mother in spirit and bring her through and she, told me how she died and named about five of her eight dachshunds that she owned, all on the other side with her. Picked up my briefcase and told them both that it was nice meeting them and went on my way. I got looks just like the Lone Ranger does when he jumps up on Silver and rides away! It was a good feeling.