This leads to something I was going to post yesterday about theological/metaphysical situations I've encountered over my life, and that is what I can only describe as angelic visitations. At some time between Sept. 1971 and June 1972, while I was crashing ands burning as an instructor at a Pennsylvania college, I was driving one weekend to Ohio. Somewhere, either on the endless PA turnpike or Route 80, I fell asleep at the wheel. I was awakened by someone calling my name. It was just in time, since I was driving into the back of a large truck.
In August 2013, O was at Toyland, finishing up things before I sent to Dublin to record Roberta. I got up from my chair to go to the printer and fell to the floor in intense pain. When I finally stood up, my muscles had contracted so badly I was only comfortable if I stood bent over with my head almost at a level with my waist. I managed to get to the bus, got home, looked up a local chiropractor, hoping he would be helpful, and headed to Broadway for a taxi. By the time I got to Broadway and 82nd Street, I thought I was going to die. I finally crossed Broadway, fell onto the bench at the bus stop, thinking, will I ever get a taxi? Out of nowhere, a very large black woman I had never seen before or since came up to me and said, you look like you're in trouble; what do you need?
I told her, she hailed a cab, helped me into it, wished me luck, and I saw the chiropractor who examined me and helped me into a taxi to go to the ER.
