The Torrington Medium

Some of you may have heard, Theresa Caputo, the Long Island Medium, is coming to The Warner Theater in October. 10 years ago this news would have been about as interesting as Styxx coming to town, but my view on psychic mediums changed after a reading I had.

Some of you may have heard this story, Hell I may have even blogged about it a bit…but whatever…

In terms of people who communicate with the dead I was, in simplest terms, a skeptic. A non-believer who dismissed this alleged gift as “hogwash”, to put it gently.

Around my 25th birthday a friend bought me a 30 minute reading with a psychic/medium who was holding court for one day in Torrington, as part of some artsy/fartsy type thing.

At the time my friend was a fan of “Crossing Over with John Edward.” Another alleged medium who had his own show on the Sci-Fi network, naturally.

I remember she would roll her eyes when I would laugh at his communications with the dead relatives of audience members. I mentioned to her that I would love to meet with a medium to prove that its all B.S. A few months later she had my meeting arranged and the rest is….eerie history.

I walked into the room where the reading was being held: a backroom of a rented out building used for art shows and craft fairs on South Main Street. The woman was average looking; a little heavy. Just a woman, nothing supernatural about her.

As soon as I sat down an odd look came over her.

“I’m sensing a lot of energy in this room,” she said, ominously. “This is going to be good.”

She pulled out what she called a charm. Apparently, there was a chance an evil entity could enter the room during a reading. If that should happen this entity would be drawn to the charm rather than to me. She called it a charm. I called it a rock.

Before I could even introduce myself she asked me if I had an older relative who had passed. Well who the fuck doesn’t I thought. But instead, politely answered, ” yes.”

“He is here with us now,” she said, calmly.

The woman paused. She closed her eyes as if she was pondering some deep mystery. And the next words she spoke took my breath away.

“This man is showing me a croquet set.”

No sooner than the sentence left her lips did the tears well up behind my eyeballs. A lump formed in my throat as a wave of emotion washed over me. I was drowning in a sea of disbelief and shock. When I finally pulled myself out of this unfamiliar water I was a changed man.

You see, when I was a little boy, no older than four or five, my grandfather John, who was like a second father to me, used to play croquet with me in the backyard. How many kids can say that?

Had the woman said she was being shown a football, a baseball, even a frisbee; that I could understand. I mean, what boy didn’t play ball with grandpa? But croquet! That was too specific. That was specific to me and MY grandfather.

Besides being specific to ME. IT was also insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Croquet was a tiny memory, buried in my brain that was filled with hundreds of other memories of grampy. Like daily trips to burger king, tickling me until I almost puked, screaming at me when I would swear. Croquet was nothing special. It was just something I did here and there as a child. There were no hilarious stories associated with it, no photo albums of me holding a croquet mallet and I certainly didn’t tell my friends about the good ole days playing croquet with grampy. It was for all these reasons that the woman being shown a croquet set had me spooked.

After what seemed like hours I finally choked out: “I understand croquet. But why would he being showing that?”

The woman had a simple answer that I already knew, “Because the memory is specific to just you and him,” she said.

And she was right.

I listened as she told me my grandfather was there with us that day. She told me he was with me alot. Grampy did not provide me with any advice or tell me the meaning of life.

As the woman stated, “he just likes being around the people he loves.”

Ill never forget that experience obviously. Who would? And while it was comforting knowing that grampy was still with us, out there somewhere -part of it will always bother me a bit.

The part that beckons why? Why did this “medium” know these things. Why is she able to talk to dead people while others are not? Why when my friend went in for her reading following mine was she unable to connect with anyone on the other side?

I’ll never fully understand exactly what went on in that room that day. But since then I’ve undoubtedly become more open to the possibility of mediums and their alleged abilities.

So i think I’m gonna go see Theresa when she comes to Torrington in October. And when she yells out “Croquet” in the middle of her show, I’ll be the first to stand up and say:

“You read my blog you bitch!!”



One Response to “The Torrington Medium”

  1. Jason Maroon Says:

    I love you man!!! Reading this made me miss you. We are going too. Let’s go together. Let me know.

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