“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

In 1931 in Saratoga Springs, New York, Jane’s father, Delmer Roberts (or Del) chose to exercise the probability that he would leave his wife Marie and their daughter Jane, who was not yet three years old. Marie’s mother, Mary Finn, called Minnie, lived with the family and often served as Jane’s nanny. Jane was a second child following her mother’s earlier miscarriage. Already Marie was showing signs of arthritis. Jane and I came to believe that it was hardly accidental that her mother quickly became bedridden—for life—following the departure of her husband. Minnie Finn was killed by a hit-and-run speeding motorist one icy winter day on her way to the corner store to buy the young girl some shredded wheat for supper—a tragedy that Marie never stopped blaming her daughter for. The two went on welfare. A series of housekeepers, of varying abilities and temperaments and staying powers, were provided for them over the early years. The young Jane spent almost two years in a Catholic orphanage for women while her mother was hospitalized. Some of the housekeepers had been—and some still were—prostitutes, Jane told me. They took care of Marie’s physical needs—tasks that in her later teens Jane would often take care of herself. With welfare’s help Marie set up a telephone answering service for local doctors that she ran from her bed. The two women’s Catholicism became even stricter: it was often bolstered by the head of the local church coming to Sunday dinner at the old two-family house at 92 Middle Avenue, in one of the lower-income sections of Saratoga Springs.

First, though, as the afternoon began to lengthen our guests left us at the end of their most delightful collective visit. Laurel and I had thoroughly enjoyed meeting them; we’d badly needed a break from our endless routines of work, even if those were mostly creative. There were handshakes and thank-yous and hugs all around. Jim and Debbie, and Theresa and Winter wanted to visit the wine country of upstate New York, and then continue their vacation in Maine before finally heading back west and home. Laurel and I were left standing alone in 1730’s driveway. But not for long. She hadn’t brought birdseed along as she usually does to scatter around the house, so down the hill we went to the little store at the intersection, then back up to the silent and shuttered house....