Remembering Joan Quigley. 1927- 2014.

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I remember that she always sat alone in the dark restaurant where I worked as a waiter, nine years or so ago.

I remember that the restaurant was in downtown San Fransisco and was called Cafe Andree, named after the poet Kenneth Rexroth’s wife.

I remember that Cafe Andree was attached to The Hotel Rex, a literary hotel named after Kenneth Rexroth.

I remember that she was hiding out in the hotel.

I remember that she was always really well dressed and looked like an east coast aristocrat.

I remember that her hair always looked as if it had been professionally done.

I remember she was always reading the newspaper and was happy to talk.

I remember how she spoke like a well written English Literature novel.

I remember that she always said thank you and smiled at me.

I remember wondering if she was coming on to me.

I remember that she said she was going to do my astrological chart but can not remember if she ever did.

I remember that the restaurant was often slow and I would sit down and talk with her.

I remember the first time that she told me that she was Ronald and Nancy Reagan’s personal astrologer while Ronald Reagan was in the white house.

I remember that I thought she was making that up.

I remember when she told me that she set the time for summit meetings, presidential debates, Reagan’s 1985 cancer surgery, State of the Union addresses and so many other things.

I remember when she told me that Nancy Reagan would consult with her before Air Force One could take off.

I remember when she told me that there was a private line set up just for her in the white house and that she would consult with Nancy Reagan several times a day.

I remember how upset she seemed with regards to never really receiving the recognition she felt like she deserved, since the Reagans wanted to keep their personal astrologer a secret.

I remember having a hard time believing her.

I remember looking her up on-line and finding out that she was indeed the Reagan’s personal astrologer.

I remember thinking how cool it was that I was getting to know her.

I remember spending several evenings a week talking with her.

I remember that she was often in a state of terror.

I remember that she felt very alone.

I remember that she felt like people where after her.

I remember that she thought that maybe it was the Illuminati.

I remember that she would often talk about how America was being taken over by a small group of very wealthy men.

I remember how she talked about how everything in America was going to get worse and worse, that individual freedoms were being taken away.

I remember that she was always afraid of being killed or kidnapped.

I remember when she took me out to lunch at a prestigious San Fransisco restaurant that she loved called Garibaldis.

I remember when she took my then wife and I out to a nice Italian food dinner in North Beach.

I remember that she spent the entire dinner talking about who she thought was after her and the take over of America.

I remember that she felt like we were all in great danger.

I remember that her eyes were always looking around the room.

I remember drinking a lot of red wine that evening and staring at the Joan Miro prints on the walls.

I remember being happy that she bought dinner because I did not have any money.

I remember that one of her credit cards was declined and becoming really concerned that my then wife and I were going to have to buy dinner.

I remember the last time I saw her she gave me her book entitled, “What Joan Says, My Seven Years As A White House Astrologer To Nancy And Ronald Reagan.”

I remember that I never read the book.

I remember that my then wife and her mother were supposed to meet Joan for dinner in Santa Monica several months later but Joan canceled at the last-minute.

I remember the frantic message that she left on my then wife’s voicemail.

I remember that she was coughing a lot and sounded very ill and afraid.

I remember wondering if she was in danger.

I remember that I never heard about her or from her again after that.

I remember last week wondering about what ever happened to Joan Quigley.

I remember wondering if she was still alive.

I remember hoping that she was still alive and doing ok.

I remember thinking that a lot of what she spoke about happening in and to America, has been happening.

I remember feeling glad that for a brief period of time, I got to know Joan Quigley, President Reagan’s secret astrologer.

 

 

 

 

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