“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

Around 1:00 P.M., as Rob and I finished lunch in the kitchen and waited for the mailman, a fan turned up. A young lad who usually showed up once a year. He was the one I described in The God of Jane who felt himself to be a woman trapped in a man’s body. He has some suicidal tendencies, and I’ve worried about that. But here he was, all grins this time … alive and several pounds more substantial.

Rob had to go to the bank, so he excused himself and left just after the mailman arrived. I read the mail over. This year’s cool August air blew through the house, and I tightened my sweater. One letter in particular caught my eyes because it was from an old friend, Ed, the man who had introduced Rob and I to begin with; a man who we had lost touch with until two years ago when he’d suddenly written from Alaska.

Spring night; my first husband and I just pulled up in front of my mother’s house; the rushing sounds of a car pulling in ahead of us. Ed Robinson’s voice — the Ed of the Alaskan letter now received thirty years later, (the Ed who was then doing the detective comic strip referred to in the day’s predictions) and a stranger’s voice.

The stranger who bent his head to our car window was Rob. Ed had recognized my husband’s car and followed us, asking us to go to his house to meet his new work partner, Rob, when I was finished visiting with my mother.

And, in a way it was. The stove we bought this week was delivered. One of the delivery men from Sears recognized Rob and I at once as a couple he had known briefly in the sixties, when we often visited with the Maples (old friends who — again — we haven’t heard from in 20 years) who he had lived downstairs from.

*6 Not bad. The man who delivered our new stove from Sears turns out (today) to know us from 20 years ago. He says he lived downstairs from our old friends, Atalie and Lydia Maple who moved away in the mid-1960’s.