Clairvoyance is a touch-and-go phenomenon that requires an unspoken commitment between two parties, the central force summoned between them being called “belief.” Many of us have faith, or at least show a curiosity in the forecasting skills of mediums, oracles, seers, palm readers or those highly attuned with their magickal third eye. Nostradamus being one of the most revered visionaries in the history of humankind, we still find fascination and criticism in his ancient quatrains. On the flipside, the famous 16th Century witch, Ursula Southeil, aka Mother Shipton, and the more derogatory tag, “Hag Face,” was so feared and so accurate with her prophecies in England, she was thought to be the daughter of Satan himself.
The true essence of witchcraft actually rejects the idea of the devil, but try telling that to the insidious Court of Oyer and the Terminer in Salem, 1692. Before I delve too far into the maudlin or arcane, I am a believer in fate, much less clairvoyance. I am spiritually aligned to a belief system grounded not only in nature but lofted into the all-encompassing universe, ushered to by the God and Goddess–which is to speak collectively, not singularly. Soothsaying, or ESP, in more contemporary jargon, comes part and parcel. Thus I openly receive messages from the Lord and Lady, which are sent to me through my personal pantheon, and through communing with mortal followers bearing their gifts of second sighting.
Still being new to the path and merely a dabbler with my Thoth Tarot deck, I recently had a spot-on Tarot reading from a new friend, a more seasoned reader. Her card laying matched exactly what TJ had drawn for me a month ago. Rookie I may be, I even pulled similar cards in a draw-three session of my own. The Chariot card being the common denominator in all of these readings on my behalf, I take comfort knowing I am in firm control of my own destiny.
Which leads me into the realm of novelty and coin-operated fortune telling machines. If you’ve watched the movie Big with Tom Hanks, you’re already muttering the name of Zoltar as you read this. We’ve all, at one time or another, dropped the coin and half-excitedly, half-nervously waited to see what lies in wake for us after all the proverbial bells and whistles of the whimsical fortune telling machines have spun their would-be sorcery.
A fortune telling machine, especially a Zoltar, is a momentary diversion, offering a somewhat right, mostly off-center calling of one’s future. Often you read your fortune card, you laugh at what it got wrong, call what it got right mere coincidence, and toss it into the nearest trash can before moving on to whatever your immediate path calls to you to do.
Then again, sometimes you have to wonder… Can a set of grinding gears, surrounded by blaring arcade noise, actually be spot-on with what it’s trying to tell you?
Swallowed in a deep, dark spot near a cramped set of air hockey tables at Marty’s Playland in Ocean City, Maryland, is a relatively hidden gem most people never see. I quietly call her Esmeralda, but my mother, who introduced me to her years ago, simply calls her “THE Fortune Lady.” Emphasis on “THE,” like NFL players do when introducing themselves and their college alma maters. As in, the only one that matters.
My video game-addicted son has soured my long-ago love of arcades, but anytime I’m at the inlet in Ocean City, I’m usually compelled to take a walk into Marty’s Playland and visit my old, beat-up gypsy soothsayer. It’s as mandatory a stop as Thrasher’s Fries. If you’re been to Ocean City, Maryland, you know full-well what I mean.
Of course, the line of for Thrasher’s is always at a constant, while Esmeralda is always waiting for a nostalgic sap like me to come put into her action. In the way of arcade amusements, she is a refined relic of her time from the 1940s, though you see the maintenance done to restore her broken ceramic hand. She stares in silence at her card spread amongst other vintage Skeeball, Pokerino, Crane Digger and pinball machines, but once you feed the quarter, she elegantly glides her weathered hand in the same silence a few times until your fortune card drops. Backing up a moment, what actually costs a quarter to play in an arcade anymore?
Over the years, Esmeralda has been scary good in matching her “visions” to my life to the point I’ve exercised full, continuous suspension of disbelief. This is no novelty to me. Nor has it been to my mother, who has visited Esmeralda since she was a teenager herself generations ago.
Last year, I visited Ocean City by myself on an errand for my late father. Naturally, I ate my Thrasher’s before hitting Esmeralda. The fortune I drew that day predicted my exact path and chain of events leading to my reunion with TJ, who has since become my girlfriend. TJ, being a Wiccan priestess and a solid oracle reader in her own right, later obliged me with a visit to Esmeralda for fun, though I sensed her skepticism. Fair enough, however, you be the judge in the result of our trip to see THE Fortune Lady…
TJ drew the exact same fortune I did prior to us getting together. Now you can take the low road and say those fortune cards are a dime a dozen, printed up and stuffed into Esmeralda’s mechanical guts with zero cosmic power to it. I, personally, take the higher road…
–Ray Van Horn, Jr.