OTHERPLANE

While stationed in Okinawa, with the U.S. Army, in 1970, the family and I went to a local carnival near the base. I saw a tent that had a sign that read... "Palm Reader". I often wondered if they really could read a person's palm, and tell the person their life path/fate. I decided to find out for myself and have my palm read.

I paid my money and sat down. The woman sitting at the table opposite of me asked for my hands. I extended my hands toward the woman with the palms facing up. She studied my so-called life-lines and proceeded to explain what the lines told her.

She had a puzzled look and started to speak. "Your life-lines are about equal in length but they are slightly different in width (toward the center - where both hands come together with palms up)". The lines that run up (from the wrist) toward the bottom life-line are different". "Your right palm line is continuous and straight which indicates a long life but, your left palm line is jagged, broken and does not truely indicate a difinite solid connection to the bottom life-line". "It is your left palm that I am concerned about".

The woman continue to speak... "Your left palm life-lines indicate that you will die at about age 54 years old". Her statement caught me off-guard and I thought, "I am only 23 years old and only have 31 more years of life, and I die?" I thanked her and left. I told the wife what the woman said. Through the years, I often thought about that event and the number 54. Sometimes, while engaged in conversation and the subject of death came up, and if I remembered, I would mention that event and how I had come to accept my death... should that fate happen to me at age 54.

The year is 2002 and I am now 54 years old and will turn 55 in March. On January 8th, my father (81 years old), was admitted to the hospital, and I received a call from one of my sisters that our father may not have long to live (he died the next day). I purchased my airline tickets and flew home on the 10th. On the 11th, the local newspaper's obituary listed the information on my father. Surprise, surprise... the name shown was not my father's, but showed my name. How could my sister, who provided the information to the funeral home, make the mistake. I did understand that in her grief she could have made an honest mistake. I asked another sister, whom I was staying with, to let me see our father's birth certificate. On the birth certificate, his name is almost the same as mine except that he does not have a middle name. I would have to get in touch with my sister (who provided the information), and have her submit a correction. I called my wife to explained what happened and also said to her, "According to the obituary, you are now a widow". She didn't think my remark was funny.

The funeral service was schedule for the morning of the 12th (my father was cremated). Prior to the service beginning I received a unoffical copy of the death certificate and it too showed my name (on the person died line), and not my father's name. This is not good, I thought... "What if the bureauocracy somehow makes a mistake and I lose my military retirement pay and Social Security benefits?" "This is not good." "I will have to straighten this mess out myself."

To make a long story short, I did exactly what the Department of Health and Statistics (for the state) told me to do and submitted the required documents, along with showing proof of difference between my father's name and mine. They assured me they would make the correction and I should wait 2 weeks before I could submit an order form requesting an offical copy of my father's death certificate.

I departed and returned home to where I am now living, on the 26th. By now, my wife had told all of our friends about my demise. One the 27th, I received a phone call from a friend (who didn't know), and I explained what I was going through. When I was done explaining, this friend said, "Then the prophecy had come true". I said, "What prophecy are you talking about?" My friend said, "Remember what you told me about the palm reader and you dying at age 54?" I had completely forgotten about that... I told her, "I don't know how much more I can take and we'll just have to wait and see until I receive an offical copy of the death certificate (to see if the correction was made).

Yesterday, February 2, 2002, I called my sister (who submitted the order form for copies of the death certificate), and she said, "I just got the mail and the copies just arrived. Let me open the envelope and see." "Nope, they did not make the correction... you are still dead." "I will call them on Monday and find out why the correction was not made."

Tue, 19 Feb 2002, Otherplane writes: