33 If you know what I mean Part 1

So jump ahead a bit. Things changed quick back then and I had found myself with a group of new friends. A little more adventurous. My closest friend was an ex Catholic School girl that lived just a block or so away, but I didn't meet her till high school. How is that possible? She lived across the town line in Rockville Centre and went to a different Catholic school. We started going deep into things. She read poetry & I acted on it. A perfect combination. I'll write later about some our nights jumping out of her bedroom window, but I'm skipping it for now.

I'm not really sure if it was late 1970 or early 1971. Remember, we were around esoteric teachings our whole lives. Religious iconography. Incense. Chanting. Petitioning the Lord. The church I went to had stone tunnels between chapels and little rooms for those with infirmities to pray and cast off their physical handicaps. I used to sneak into the little room with crutches and sit in wonder. They had barn owls too. 

An actual chapel at my church

Let's just say there was a cultural phenomenon going on at the time. Everyone was obsessed with monsters, witches and ghosts.

My blood line too. Grandma Sophie and her seances. And hello. Black Sabbath. I worshiped that first album. Wore down the grooves. The volume that it was played at must have frightened the neighbors, but people lived and let live more than now it seems. The family on the west side of us was a large Italian family that yelled loud at each other all the time. It was their way of showing affection, I guess. So they might not have heard it. The family on the other side was a German family that kept to themselves. That is the way that it was.

Wearing my black "Black Sabbath" dress

I had that Anton LaVey book, probably one of the first. That could be another post. Demons are real and they are harmful. I put that away. I know it is said now that it really wasn't about Satan, but sometimes there are places you should steer clear of. To each his own and that's mine. (P.S. This is about the story. Not my grammar.) Then I found a book by Raymond Buckland that I found interesting.

We were obsessed with the subject. It was a bit harder back then to get any information about the occult, but luckily we were living in a place where you could find every kind of freak. My friend had a sister who was older by a year. Like a good Catholic girl she was also delving into the occult. This was quite a family I tell you. They were great. Her sister, L, was dating a roadie that worked the Action House. There's a few stories there too. South of Nathan's by about a mile, it was really pretty historic. So this guy also "roadied" for a couple of prominent bands too. Occasionally filling in on drums when "things" happened or the drummer was "out of sorts."

We heard about the witchcraft museum that Raymond Buckland set up in his house and said "Yeah." You had to make an appointment, you couldn't just show up. It was in the basement of his house. L called and set it up. It was somewhere in Suffolk County, out more east on Long Island. Her boyfriend "D" had an amazing car. It was a red Roadrunner. This was a pretty damn good muscle car. I don't know engine stuff but he raced it in true to life car races.

This dude was a character. From what I hear now, he's got quite a life story. Apparently he's had some close encounters. Actually more than close encounters. Eventually I'll talk about that too, if I don't croak first. But it makes me laugh. I wonder if it all started with this day? 🤔 I knew him before this day. Every damn time he thought L wasn't looking, he used to turn and look at me and do that tongue thing that Thelma and Louise hated. 🤣 I wouldn't mention it but he did it so many damn times that day, it's one of the things I clearly remember. Whatever. I just laughed.

So off we go. This was the first time I sat in a car with so much power. It just seemed kind of trippy to be on our way with a loud hum and all kinds of force. That was trippy to me to begin with. Like I said I don't remember the exact day, but it was before Buckland moved the museum out of his house. It was a little in the boonies. I remember it being a gray day. I also remember passing a burger place and there were people out front in maxi dresses and capes. Whoa dude. Witches.

So we get to the house. I was already a little spacy, not from any substance but just from the weirdness of everything. I was kind of starting to experience it through a kind of tunnel vision, a feeling of light floating. I backed off from conversation and let L and D do the talking. I'm not afraid to ask questions, but felt I wanted to observe. My friend and I just wanted to see what was there. So it was also trippy that it was just Raymond Buckland. I almost felt like saying "what's going on? This is really weird and amazing." Off into the ozone. We went down into his basement.

I hardly remember anything in the museum. It was all weird and unusual. Artifacts from all over the world. What I remember was that Buckland stayed right with us at all times. We were the only ones there. L and D asked questions. He answered but what was really burned into my memory were the glass cases. We'd be on one side and Buckland was on the other. He did like to talk a lot and tell us all about the displays, but he more than once looked at me thought he glass. Right at me. Into my eyes. Good god. I was almost seeing trails from the experience. I don't know if you've ever experienced a truly religious revelation. You feel as though you are racing with power, moving above the mundane. I don't remember a lot about when we left, but D said he had some friends we should visit. Ok. Now what?