Organic DNA, President Obama and My NO GMO Vote

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, a novella about two women who died and became legends in the historic seacoast town of Marblehead, MA, available now on Amazon. She is also the author of Atlantis, political poems about the United States being another Atlantis.

     My first vote was for Shirley Chisholm in 1972; I was 21 years old. You can see I was ready even then for a change.

     When President Obama won the election in 2008, I cried. Like many other people, I thought, “Now, there’s hope.”

     Today, I am disappointed.

     I have been macrobiotic for over 35 years. I have watched this country go from thinking diet had nothing to do with health to seeing an organic garden at the White House. I’m glad about that. Thank you, Michelle. Now, future generations will understand how good quality food affects the quality of their lives.

     However, while creating a lovely photo op of the organic garden, President Obama’s administration has, behind the scenes, ignored America’s requests for more organic farming methods, and, most importantly, no GMOs (Genetically Modified Organisms) in our food and agriculture.

     I know that a President cannot do everything, that President Obama is a delegator, and that he trusts the man he appointed to be Secretary of Agriculture, Tom Vilsack, a highly respected man in agri-business and friend of the bio-tech industry and the man he appointed to be Deputy Commissioner for Foods, Michael Taylor, former lawyer for Monsanto, the biggest manufacturer of GMOs. I know that the process of feeding billions of people is complicated and changes cannot be made overnight.

     However, I also know the dangers of genetically altering the DNA of our food. Perhaps modern science has not learned or proved yet how our DNA is made, but as a macrobiotic person, I believe our DNA comes primarily from the food we eat. Traditionally, most peoples stayed in one place, and therefore, grew food there and ate from that location. People of different areas, like families, took on distinctive traits from that area, as from family recipes.

     Now, with so many GMOs in our food system, 90% of all packaged foods on our shelves have some Genetically Modified ingredients, we are playing a dangerous game of roulette with the genes of our children.

     I cannot vote for President Obama unless he comes out against GMOs, or at least for more study into their dangers.

     I’m sure the Obama administration has heard of the initial studies that did find dangers, but these studies and the scientists who did them were silenced. Also, they have heard of the farmers’ suicides in India and Prince Charles’ statements against GMO seeds.
     Of course, not voting for Obama also means I will not be voting for his Republican opponent. After all, it was a Republican who “de-regged” GMOs in the first place. 

     Most organic food proponents are demanding GMO labeling right now, and they are disappointed in Obama because he has failed to keep his campaign promise to label GMOs.

     I am not disappointed about labeling.

     I think GMO labeling is a waste of time.

     Americans should not wait for labeling. They should stop buying all packaged foods immediately and go straight to organic bulk and fresh foods. What would happen if everyone, all at once, stopped buying their packaged breakfast cereals? Baked goods? Chips? Frozen dinners? Pizzas? Fast foods of all kinds.

     I know one thing that would happen: everyone’s health would improve.

     I am also very disappointed in Mrs. Obama’s “Let’s Move” program, which promised to fill “food deserts” in our inner cities with markets of fresh produce and real food for healthy meals instead of the fast food convenience stores that exist now on virtually every corner. I don’t understand why the First Lady cannot get food stores into cities. What is taking so long? Or, why isn’t the success of this program, if I am wrong and it is a success, in the news? (NEWS!) I have not heard of even one market that has gone into an inner city “food desert” or one major food chain that has taken on this challenge of getting fresh food to the people. (Correction - Just heard of markets rising to the occasion from a friend, Green Consciousness on Facebook. Click on NEWS! Should have been on page 1 everywhere! Food deserts are so bad, even GMOs are better than nothing - for now.) Meanwhile, more talk about how bad food deserts are.
     I purchased an Obama/Biden button from his site in 2008. I lost it one day in Barnes & Noble. I actually crawled on the floor to find it because I valued it so much, still believing he would change this country. I found the button, but I had to put it away after learning about his continuing GMO policy, because I couldn’t bear to look at it.
     I want to be able to wear a new 2012 Obama button. But, I cannot. And, I cannot vote for Obama this year.
     Oh, I’m very happy that President Obama came out for gay marriage and for Planned Parenthood. These are, in a way, more important issues than GMOs because they are more immediate issues. Just hearing Mitt Romney say, “Yeah, Planned Parenthood, we’re gonna get rid of that.” Made me want to jump up and run out and vote for Obama. Especially since I was watching a Law & Order SVU marathon at the time.

     However, GMOs are not so obvious because GMOs will sneak up on us perhaps years from now and bite us on the behind. Do you really want to risk the snowballing effect one gene alteration could have on another and then, on another, on another, etc when that gene could be in your grandchild?
     My feelings are ones of sadness that the United States, the greatest country in the world, does not have 100% healthy food for its people. GMOs are dangerous and they are being consumed even as I write in everything from baby formula to cake mix.
     Currently, the GMO industry has been putting riders on our Farm Bills that would eliminate all restrictions against GMOs, even government, EPA or USDA restrictions. 
     The earth may or may not be able to rejuvenate from GMOs.  We simply don’t know how genetically modified organisms will effect the planet. Super Weeds that are resistant to the pesticides in GMO crops are being formed out in the fields. Even the sacred corn of Mexico, preserved for thousands of years, has been polluted by GMOs. (WARNING: The first half of this video contains GRAPHIC IMAGES of the results of Agent Orange, another bio-tech product. Mexico sacred corn, from 4:06 on.)
     Even as I write, plans are being made to release Genetically Modified mosquitos into Florida. President Obama, please do not allow this action! Americans do not want GM insects released!
     President Obama, please do something about GMOs in our food supply. Please come out against GMOs and I will vote for you.
     There is still a chance for hope.

*For more information about GMOs, please visit organicconsumers.org, fooddemocracynow.org or responsibletechnology.org.

   

**For more info about the author and to see more of Patricia Goodwin's work, please visit patriciagoodwin.com.

©Patricia Goodwin, 2012

Mad Men & Women

   Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, a novella about two women who died and became legends in the historic seacoast town of Marblehead, MA, available now on Amazon. She is also the author of Atlantis, political poems about the United States being another Atlantis.       


           Someone recently asked me, in a snide way, what my generation had contributed to society.
           Ok, in the course of conversation, I had just made fun of “The Hunger Games” fans’ enthusiasm for their heroes, as though their generation was going to solve everything by running a fictitious race.

            “I’m glad your generation never thought they’d solved everything.”

            Wait, I think my generation contributed a few positive things to society.

            Just to make it interesting, let’s eliminate Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, and Wozniak, all of them hippies, children of the revolution.

            Another gripe from the above conversation – “Mad Men” Premiere Parties - why would any woman want to dress up in the style of the 1950’s-60’s in 2012 and go to a cocktail party to drink sugared alcohol drinks and eat fake food?

            Let’s take the clothing first.

            I was there. If anything denoted the oppression of women it was the clothing and other apparatus women had to wear. This is not just a fashion statement. Any woman or girl who has spent a day (at work or school) and an evening in a girdle, stockings, high heels, bra, tight dress, (and if she had her period, belt and pad) can tell you it was no party. Girdles weren’t about holding up your stockings. Girdles were about keeping your flesh from jiggling. Now add the white gloves and foolish hat. White gloves get dirty almost instantly, even if you’re a debutante who doesn’t have to open her own doors. And, why, please tell me why would any self-respecting woman walk around with one of those stupid hats on her head? Ok, I know why. Because society made them. If a woman didn't wear a hat, or couldn't afford a hat, she was - you guessed it - a slut. If her hat was cheap, the church women were lined up and ready to call her cheap.

I thought we’d left all that behind and good riddance! But, no, women who never had to wear a girdle – I mean HAD to wear a girdle – are playing dress up and getting all nostalgic about the days when women had to wear dresses, hats and gloves.

            Again, I was there. I was a twelve year-old girl in a girdle. I know you’re getting that feeling in your gut right now, that “What? How absurd!” feeling. Oh, yeah. Twelve. My white gloves got dirty on my way to church. Sometimes, my slip showed. And, of course, since I was twelve, my stockings got runs when I climbed on the bridge and balanced on the pipes like a tightrope walker.
           You don’t have to be a kid to get runs, though. Once, when I was sixteen, on our way out for a date, my boyfriend’s cigarette ash burned a hole in my brand new stockings as he reached for the ashtray. “Oops, sorry.” He said. Oh, no problem! Instead of the elegant outfit I put together at great trouble and expense, I’ll just look like a slut all night.
           None of this nonsense matters you might say – and you’d be correct. None of this nonsense matters now. However, at the time, the church ladies were all lined up ready to announce what a slut I was to the congregation, the neighborhood and to my mother after they got home – not for public lewdness – no, for having a run in my stocking, for somehow “allowing” my slip to show, and for dipping my virginal white gloved fingertips obviously into some sort of filth.

            Any woman in the past who was reprimanded by her boss for coming to work with a run in her stocking can tell you it felt pretty bad. From that moment on, she either accepted her sluttery and the fact that she would never be promoted, or she carried an extra pair of stockings in her purse. (By the way, I absolutely loved the punks with their purposeful runs! Finally, someone got it!)

            You will never see Peggy Olson, copywriter extraordinaire of the TV show “Mad Men” going to work wearing moccasins, bare legs and no bra. (I did - needless to say, I never made it in the insurance business where I had a summer job before college.) I challenge Matthew Weiner to let her. Peggy will always dress as close to Don Draper’s attire as possible. She is after his job.

            My generation got rid of the dress code. Why would any woman want to go back to it – even for one party - unless she is indeed mad? When I saw the thick make-up and retro clothes of artists like the B-52s, Katie Perry and Adele, I really did not understand why any woman would go back to it. It is fun to play dress up. But, I’m with Meryl Streep when she cried, “I can’t wait to get out of these Jimmy Choos!” Wait no more, my sister. 

(UPDATE: By the way, Jon Hamm agrees with me - no girdle!)

            Now, the food. My generation brought back natural and organic foods.

You may not realize it, but cancer used to be rare. Before World War II, very few people died of cancer. It was still possible to get off balance and create a cancer before fake foods, but now, with most of our food being artificial, most people expect to get cancer and, in fact, with no real food in the mainstream diet, cancer and other degenerative diseases are almost impossible to avoid.

            On that note, why would anyone think it’s fun to create and admire artificial foods at a Mad Men premiere party such as a display of Cheez Whiz on celery with olive slices, and plastic dip on trans fat chips – let alone actually eat these au d'oeuvres of death? And wash them down with a sugary highball?

            So, my generation eliminated the dress code and brought back real food. What else?

            How about the small matter of contraception? I was lucky enough to go to a clinic where I was allowed to pretend I was married in order to get the pill. My daughter does not have to pretend. She can get a good exam from a reputable doctor of her choice and again, choose her method of contraception. No, we haven’t completely solved the problem of contraception. Every couple must work that out for themselves, but at least we made it possible to choose. That fight is not over, as Republicans are trying even now to take these hard won rights away from us (does the word “slut” come to mind?). And, too many women right here in the United States are still faced with Peggy Olson’s agonizing decision to give up her baby.

            Before I wind this up, let’s take a moment to remember our friend, Sal from “Mad Men”, the gay fellow who was fired for not sleeping with the client who came on to him. I recall a few gay pride parades where men and women practically danced naked in the streets to gain their freedom. My great aunt was butch/fem in the 40’s-70’s. She walked down the street with her short hair slicked back and her girl friend in high heels and a dress (for once, a political statement). Our family was the only one that would receive them, and I loved them. They were a blast! They had balls.  Let's not forget who fought so hard for gays  – the wild ones, the hippies, the trannies, the self-professed freaks - at a time when many gays couldn't even get hired, let alone adopt children or live openly as a couple. True, we are still struggling with issues like gay marriage and battling back the conservatives who want to take all our gains away. The fight continues, but much was won during the 60's revolution.

          I also have to take a moment to comment on the “real Peggy Olson” Jane Maas, who wrote the book about Madison Avenue, “Mad Women.” I browsed her book and caught the phrase about what fun it was to have first class clients like Monsanto. Monsanto has been poisoning us for decades, first with saccharin, aspartame, Agent Orange, then Round-Up, BST, PCBs, DDT, and now GMOs. Somebody drank the Kool Aid.

            My generation gave us – to name a few - women’s rights, gay rights, natural food. Until 9/11, we had almost stopped war. I’m sure there’s more.

            This blog post isn’t about a TV show or a movie or a book. It’s about a revolution we fought, a few battles we won, and some mad men and women who want to play pretend we didn’t. 

©Patricia Goodwin, 2012

The Art Of Living: Christmas Onions

This is a way to live
an idea of crimson and gold
forsaking all else for simplicity

you walk into a bustling market
and see them right away
onions to paint
a certain shape and color
beckons you
they are plump and pointed
pink and coppery
(you want gold and crimson; nature can be changed in art)
with curling long tendrils
white as an old woman's hair

you carry these home to the studio
a corner of the white bedroom
to arrange their round edges
upon a wooden cutting board, much aged,
darkened with use and the juices of vegetables
onions stink
with the sharp hiss of life
you must take pictures or the moment will not last
crisp skin falls away in your palm
coppery
turn off the flash
onions glow with their own light

make a ground of sunny yellow
yellow sun through all
from edge to edge
the line drawing of onions in between

dry for some days

draw now with paint
thin layers of gold upon gold
brilliant yellow shining through
transparent glow
parallel veins drawn precisely as nature with a fine brush
and a hole in the golden skin
through which moist white flesh peeks
blackened edges gold
laced with pale old shoots nesting round

resting on a crimson board
drawn easily with generous sienna turned in alizarin
the background clear and blue
green and slightly white yellow
like the sun

you must create two paintings
of two onions each
for Christmas
multiplying onions, boards, backgrounds

dry for some days

you hang one over the stove
next to the portrait of A Capriote
done in Italy by Sargent when he was free

the other you wrap in gold paper
and tie with a crimson ribbon
for your best friend

they glow
gold on crimson board

when the time comes
to eat the onions,
you cut the largest, roundest, pointiest one
into long half moons
slice the garlic thinly
fry in olive oil with long tapers of green peppers
till they are caramelized
almost golden
dripping with love

the smaller onion gets chopped into cubes
joining lentils, bay leaf and kombu in soup

onions change once again
into skin and blood
hair and eyes
mind and body

this is a way to live


©Patricia Goodwin, 2012

Signs: When Two Women Die

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, a novella about two women who died and became legends in the historic seacoast town of Marblehead, MA.



"Goodie Goodwin is a fine and earnest writer. I remember her stopping at the house a few times. She'd stop and stare at my old house, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind off the sea. 'Ed?' she'd venture, 'How are you? I know you've probably moved on by now, you being such a great old spirit, but can you give me a sign that what I'm doing is right? I know a lot of people will say it's not right.' Always made me chuckle. So, I sent her a few signs. With permission, of course."

Edward Dimond, Psychic, Marblehead, Massachusetts, 1690 - present day

I believe in signs.

My editor on the Seacoast NH article, J. Dennis Robinson recently published his new book America's Privateer: Lynx and the War of 1812. I was surprised to find in this history book, a story about a sign. While turning the pages upon just receiving my autographed copy, I stopped at the arresting image of a beautiful lynx in snow. The lynx animal has a lot in common with a privateer ship - both are lean, swift, agile and mysterious. Here's the Lynx sign story - A sculptor's friend was out hunting one day when he came upon a lynx. Knowing such sightings are rare, he ran back to his vehicle to get his camera, thinking the lynx would surely be gone by the time he hurried back. It wasn't. Showing no fear of the man with his camera, the lynx lingered. The photo was taken. Fast forward to the art exhibit where a man whose dream it was to re-create the historic Lynx comes upon the artist's sculpture of the lynx. The man took the sculpture as a sign that he was on the right track in attempting to re-create the Lynx; he commissioned two more such sculptures to be made for the historic ship he was building. According to Robinson's book, these sculptures now adorn "the port and starboard locations where the ship's anchors are secured, structures sailors for centuries have known as the cathead."

Nothing like a sign to hearten a daunting project.

I had written When Two Women Die in 1997. I carried the book in my heart for years, often trying to get it published, just as often moving on to new projects. When Kindle offered the chance to publish, I hesitated. Like any author, I wanted a physical book I could hold in my hand. But, I felt I had already exhausted that route. I was almost 60 years old. How much longer should I wait for publishing to catch up?

I asked old Ed Dimond for advice. Didn't get an immediate answer. I prayed also. I pray almost constantly, either begging God for help or gasping thank you. For a while, as I walked by the ocean, the idea would come into my head that I should see the film, The Weight of Water. "Oh, no, come on. I've seen it. I'm not a big fan of Liz Hurley and I hate Sean Penn." A few weeks later, walking by the ocean, "See The Weight of Water." Damn.

What I "hear" isn't exactly a voice. It's a thought that doesn't seem to come from me, but from outside of me. I'm not psychic. Maybe, sensitive.

I saw the film. That's when I got encouraged. Originally, When Two Women Die was in two parts - 1690 and 1991. After seeing The Weight of Water, which goes back and forth in time, I began to see my book in point/counterpoint style. Then, someone asked me to develop the novella into a screenplay. Ok, that clinched it. I re-wrote the book as a screenplay and as a novella, both formats in point/counterpoint, alternating between 1690 and 1991, the scenes and chapters getting shorter and more urgent as the screenplay and book rushed to the dramatic finale.

Along the way, there were lots of signs. I can't remember half of them because I squelched them in my fear of being laughed at, sneered at for being arrogant or just plain not believed. Not everyone can handle the universe talking to them.

I can recall, however, many a night, turning on the television, suddenly seeing something strange and relevant to the book and looking at each other, my husband and I exclaiming, "Oh, my God, it's another sign!" A sign, let's be clear, not that I am sent by God, but more like this project is in line with things. This project is okay.

Here's another sign. Most unnerving.

I walked down to the local market one evening, around 6:30 PM to get something a little different for dinner that night. Very unusual time for me to be in the store. Generally, I'm a morning shopper. Get in, get out, get on with the day. Lots of people like to hang out after work and chat at this particular market, and I have done some networking there myself, I admit. This evening, I was to network on a spiritual level.

I got my dinner - a can of Pastene white clam sauce (My mother would cringe; she makes her own) - and proceeded to the check out. There was a man standing at the only available register who was so beautiful, I hesitated. He was very tall; I'm small. He was very handsome; I was wearing old clothes, something I do when I stay in to work. His hair was long and glowing white - it literally glowed under the ceiling lights in the dim store. I stood beside him, sneaking glances his way. He kept a slight, ironic smile on his face. He bought his groceries and left the store.

I felt I recognized him from somewhere, but wasn't sure. A few weeks later, while I was re-writing, I saw that the 1996 movie about the 1692 Salem witch trials The Crucible was on Netflix instant viewing and I thought, let me check out some of the clothing details, see how they are handled. Now, I don't get all my facts from movies, believe me. I've been studying colonial history for some time and I saw a few errors in The Crucible while I watched it this time. Those lace collars for instance - forget it! Those actors would have been hauled into Salem court and fined for vanity.

I saw something else too. Right away. I saw the man who had been standing at the cash register. Tall and handsome, with glowing white hair. The actor Bruce Davison. I checked to see if he lives in town. He doesn't. We see a lot of actors here in Marblehead. Mark Wahlberg, Jake Gyllenhaal, Tommy Lee Jones, Dustin Hoffman, Jack Nicholson - oh, yes, no kidding! So, it's not that unusual or weird.

But, it was a sign. A big one. Whether the man I saw was that actor or just the spitting image, it doesn't matter. It was still pretty relevant to me.

While promoting When Two Women Die to anyone I thought would be interested, I came upon a website that celebrated the wonderful gardens of Celia Thaxter at her home on The Isles of Shoals. On that website, I also came across actual newspaper articles from the Smuttynose murders, the mysterious murders of two women on Smuttynose Island, NH in 1873. I wrote to the editor. The Smuttynose murders were the subject of Anita Shreve's book, The Weight of Water. That website was Seacoast, NH.

One more. This last summer as we drove around town, we saw in the harbor, not far from the site of both murders, unexpected and unusual visits from tall ships. The sight of a tall ship on the ocean with no modern structures to interrupt her beauty is breathtaking. We saw three tall ships in the harbor this summer. One of them was the magnificent Lynx.


©Patricia Goodwin, 2011

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.

Edward Dimond, Marblehead Psychic

In my thriller,  When Two Women Die, during Elizabeth Treadwell’s dramatic and frightening day in 1690, she advises a friend to seek solace in the wisdom of the old seer and psychic, Edward Dimond, who lived at the foot of Burial Hill, where all the ancient Marbleheaders were laid to rest. Edward Dimond was an old man in this story, much admired for his ability to help townspeople find lost items or discover who had committed a crime. He was also feared for his strange way of climbing Burial Hill in the midst of raging storms to “speak” to Marblehead’s sailors caught in a gale over 500 miles away in Newfoundland. And, I’m sure, he was held in awe for his superior sailing prowess, which made it possible for him to take over in an emergency and guide experienced sailors in how to regain control of their own ship. His intelligence is obvious. He needed to clearly “see” what was happening on board and quickly figure out how to reverse the dangerous situation.

What exactly did our old psychic Edward Dimond do? That’s the question I asked myself. I set out to find the answer.

First, here is the information we have on the psychic Edward Dimond. According to Thomas E. Gray’s The Founding of Marblehead, a woman named Rebecca Norman (born 1655 or 1656) married an Edward Dimond from Marblehead. We know that his house was supposedly “built” in 1720. I have always been of the belief that there is another, more simple house, probably built much earlier, inside the house we see today, which is clearly of 18^th Century style. The original Dimond house was knick-named the “Old Brig” because it was reportedly constructed of remnants of a beached ship, possibly a brig, a two-masted, square-rigged vessel. In When Two Women Die, I described Ed’s house as a simple fisherman’s shack more dramatically suited to the solitary, independent lifestyle of the sailor and seer I portrayed.

According to legend, here’s what Ed Dimond did: Edward Dimond climbed Burial Hill and projected his voice hundreds of miles in raging storms to help ships in trouble. The men on board, again, according to legend, heard Ed’s voice shouting instructions to them, probably recognizing his voice as that of a wise and trusted neighbor, jumped to, and following his every command, saved themselves and their vessel.

But, how did the sailors “hear” Ed’s voice in all horrible turmoil being raised by the storm’s energy, by the pounding thunder and crashing lightning? In When Two Women Die, I imagined Ed’s voice to be like that of a friend’s spoken directly into the sailors’ ears. I imagined that Ed’s voice is eerily quiet, whispering at times, yet heard distinctly through the storm’s chaos.

Did the sailor’s “see” Ed too? Did he physically appear to them? From the legend as we know it, Ed did not appear physically, so we must go with that information in this essay.

In my search, I began with the phenomenon of astral projection, described thusly by Crystalinks: “In astral projection the conscious mind leaves the physical body and moves into the astral body to experience. In astral projection you remain attached to your physical body by a 'silver umbilical type cord'. Some people are able to see the cord when astral projecting. People who say they experience astral projection often say that their spirit or astral body has left their physical body and moves in another dimension known as the spirit world or astral plane. The concept of astral projection has been around and practiced for thousands of years, dating back to ancient China.”

Once more, going on legend, the sailors did not see Ed Dimond; they heard him. If someone is astral projecting, word-on-the-ether is that they are on a different plane. Most likely, the physical body can’t be seen. Now, I know better than to define any psychic phenomenon. Everyone’s astral projection is probably different, and many might argue with me right now about being “seen”. That’s fine. Please let me know if you have astral projected and have been seen and heard. I'm sincerely interested, and can be reached through the comments below or through my website. Meanwhile, we don’t have any stories about Ed Dimond’s being seen on board the floundering ships. We do know that he was seen here on Burial Hill. So, his body remained standing on the hill during a violent storm. Can a body do that during astral projection? Usually, the physical body remains somewhat inert during the astral projection process, waiting for the spirit to return. Ed was extremely active and very strong to be able to stand there and hold his ground in high winds, especially at his advanced age.

Ok, so it wasn’t exactly astral projection. How about remote viewing? According to the International Remote Viewing Association, remote viewing “is a novel perceptual discipline for gaining information not available to the ordinary physical senses. Used extensively by so-called ‘psychic spies’ during the Cold War for classified military projects, it has a long history both as an intelligence gathering tool and as the subject of research and applications in the civilian world.” The IRVA teaches remote viewing; it is a skill that can be developed through practice. However, without true psychic ability, most taught remote viewing is fuzzy and ineffective. Ed Dimond was neither fuzzy nor ineffective. Also, the ability to communicate remotely was something not even the CIA could accomplish by the time they ended their “Stargate” remote viewing efforts in 1995. (Not that I believe the CIA ever ends anything. They probably just call it by a different name.)

I found an interesting example of psychic remote viewing on the website of the psychic Lynnne Olson who, while watching the Ghost Adventures’ “Las Vegas, La Palazza” house episode on television, actually interacted with the ghosts. The “La Palazza” house was a particularly nasty example of the ghosts of Las Vegas organized crime. Lynne Olson spoke to the ghosts during the show, asking questions and receiving answers. The most evil ghost told her that he stayed in the house because, “There is no heaven for the likes of me.” In this case, the psychic used the television as a conduit. Like us, and the physical world around us, which is constantly vibrating with atoms, spirits are made up of energy. The television channels energy. The idea that spirits could communicate through the television is almost too rudimentary to mention. Ghosts have been known to appear on televisions, even sets that are turned off. However, the idea of a conduit is interesting. Perhaps Ed Dimond used the storm as a conduit? Storms have plenty of energy crashing about. Not only energy but also water. We know that spirits gain a great deal of energy from water. Perhaps Ed Dimond also knew how to siphon the power of water, not only of the storm itself, but also of the powerful ocean.

I was still researching remote viewing and reading PSI Spies by Jim Marrs when I came across this passage: “In one study of native North American spirituality, the story was repeated of a Penobscot Indian (Penobscot tribe, Maine) who went on a hunting trip with his wife, son and daughter-in-law. The women stayed behind at the hunting camp, while the men went off, promising to return within three days. After four or five days, the women became anxious about the men’s safety. One night the Penobscot wife told the daughter-in-law that she was going to sleep and would dream about the men. After a long time, during which the younger woman believed she saw a ‘ball of fire’ exit and enter the wife’s body, the wife stirred and said, ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be back tomorrow. They had good luck and are bringing lots of game. I just saw them sitting by their fire eating supper.’ The next day, the hunters returned loaded with an abundance of game.”

I have never seen the fireball. But, I have heard about it now three times. Once, in a story told by Nostradamus expert, Erika Cheetham: she was attempting to film (with a film crew) the grave of Nostradamus when a fireball ripped through the church and destroyed their equipment. Another time, a practicing herbalist to whom I was telling the Nostradamus story told me she had seen the fireball. And, now, I am hearing about the fireball in a Native American story. There is no mention of the fireball in the Ed Dimond legend. But that doesn’t mean the fireball is not a part of the story, just that we don’t know about it. However, that psychic tale about the Penobscots got me wondering. Could Ed Dimond have learned to develop this psychic ability through contact with Native Americans?

I decided to write to the author of PSI Spies, Jim Marrs. I filled out his online contact form asking about Native American psychic ability. I really didn’t expect an answer, but there it was, in my inbox a couple of days later: “Howdy Patricia, (He’s from Texas.) Thank you for the most interesting e-mail.  It sounds like Ed Dimond was a Whooper, a vocal communication method used by the Appalachian mountain people and probably derivative from Native Americans.”

I was stunned. Could Whooping be heard physically? Was Whooping like yodeling; did it rely on the echoing of mountains? I had to ask the Appalachian Native Americans. 
Ironically, I turned to the internet to find out more about Native American tribes in Appalachia. I discovered a website of Native American Communities (tribes, as such, no longer exist) of West Virginia and wrote to one of their spokespeople. I received a reluctant answer.  Again, in true irony, modern Native Americans are sometimes squeamish about being publicly spiritual. However, my respectful tone had won this person over to at least answer my questions. I never got an answer about Whooping. But here is what I was told: that what I had described Edward Dimond doing was called “far-seeing” and “far-speaking” by the Native Americans of Appalachia, and that by any account, Edward Dimond’s ability was rare.

Rare. I knew it!

I’ve been studying paranormal stories for a long time, and I have never heard a story like Ed’s that did not involve God-like beings, like Jesus or angels. Jesus appeared to his disciples and angels also appeared, whether in life or in dreams. Spirits of departed loved ones also appear to us and communicate sometimes in our minds without words. Other spirits have been known to show up and interact with the living. But Ed was not dead and Ed was not a god. Ed Dimond had to overcome the limitations of the physical body and the physical world in order to call out over hundreds of miles during a storm and be heard.

I believe our ancestors and Native Americans were closer to nature’s forces than we are and more able to get in touch with these forces and use them than we are, even if we, modern man and woman, are psychic. Why? Lots of reasons. First and foremost, the earth’s power is unspiralling. The energy of heaven and earth was more powerful in the past. Second, the soil, water and air were more pure. Third, the food had more nutritional value. That last statement is almost a joke. Our food is nowhere near as powerful as it was in the 17^th Century. No comparison. Our food has deteriorated since the end of World War II, when fast foods and processed foods became the norm.  When I think of the real food I saw growing up Italian, and what I see on the supermarket shelves now, I shudder. My mother, who is traditional Italian, does not touch 90% of the packages in the store. Most people in the United States do not even know what food is. They’ve never seen it or tasted it, and they certainly have never felt the effects of it. The power of human beings has never been realized. Now, add to that equation a psychic human being eating powerful food and drinking powerful water and breathing powerful air, in a more powerfully energized time.

        I believe the Native Americans, by living in nature and understanding and using natural forces every day, were able to remote view and astral project with much more ease. Now, I also believe there were ordinary Native Americans, not every one was spiritually powerful. Psychics stood out even then. But, even ordinary Native Americans were stronger and healthier than the Europeans who came to America, unless, of course, they had bad habits that made them weak or unhealthy. Much of what the Native Americans were able to accomplish came to them naturally because they were strong and healthy and able to channel spiritual and physical energy in an efficient way. Much of what they did probably seemed normal to them.

        I believe in psychic ability. I don’t need any of its phenomena proven to me. I think skeptics are a waste of my time. Skeptics are arrogant enough to believe that only what they understand can be real. From the first moment I heard of Edward Dimond, I knew that his psychic ability was a natural and rare talent of unusual power and control. I now believe this talent was probably developed to its legendary level through contact with Native Americans. It’s possible that Native Americans used fasting and walking out to a spiritual place; music and drumming; chanting, herbs and water to reach a crescendo of concentration. We don’t know if Ed Dimond had time to use any of these methods in an emergency, but he may have developed his concentration using any of these practices. 

According to the Marblehead Reporter’s Marblehead 101 feature, “The Naumkeags, part of the Algonquin nation of woodland tribes, came to Marblehead for the same reason that people come today, fishing and living by the shore in a relaxed and healthful way. For the Naumkeags, Marblehead in the summer was part of their route. They used the time to fish, clam and collect shells; particularly prized were mussel shells with beautiful iridescent purple insides. They also collected salt from the ocean shores.”

Many Native Americans came and went from this area. In early colonial times, there was much more moving about, picking up and starting new elsewhere, than we probably realize, for Native Americans as well as the colonists. People followed opportunities to improve their lives. Ed Dimond and everyone else had the chance to meet and learn from folks from far away countries and from far away areas of this new country.

The Naumkeags lived beside Edward Dimond in Marblehead, an area, which, I believe, is enchanted. The energy here is rare, powerful and vibrating with life’s forces. The architecture has remained straight and simple, standing solidly on ground, made of natural materials, perfect for channeling heaven and earth’s forces. The ocean freely rushes and leaves the shore. Men make their living from the sea and sail for pleasure. The massive granite under every structure both channels and receives energy. Water streams underground and forms ponds above. I can only imagine what life in Marblehead was like when our amazing ancestors lived here making their living from the powerful ocean with psychics, pirates and natives as neighbors.

Please visit patriciagoodwin.com for book trailers, poems, books and info about the author. To purchase When Two Women Die: An Historical Novella of Marblehead, Telling of Two Murders Which Happened There, 301 Years Apart, please click here.

©Patricia Goodwin 2011

Patricia Goodwin is the author of When Two Women Die, about Marblehead legends and true crime and its sequel, Dreamwater, about the Salem witch trials and the vicious 11-year-old pirate Ned Low. Holy Days is her third novel, about the sexual, psychological seduction of Gloria Wisher and her subsequent transformation. Her newest poetry books are Telling Time By Apples, And Other Poems About Life On The Remnants of Olde Humphrey Farme, illustrated by the author, and Java Love: Poems of a Coffeehouse.