The VooDoo Guy

I have interviewed hundreds of people over the course of my career as a freelance news correspondent for various local and state magazines and newspapers. Most I don't remember. Sometimes I stumble over an article I wrote 20 years ago about somebody, and I read it. I think, "This sounds familiar," and then look at the byline and see that I wrote it.

Good job, I think. Did ok on that one.

Some of the people stuck with me, though. Case in point:

I interviewed a man who was allegedly a chiropractor who'd settled into the small town of New Castle. This was in the late 1990s. We'll call him Pete because I can't remember his name.

Pete seemed like a nice man, but he was also into less conventional healing modalities. He had a bookshelf full of books on things like voodoo, Reiki, holistic healing, acupuncture, aura reading, and of course, chiropractic practices. The room smelled like a marijuana cigarette. He had a degree from somewhere on the wall. He was balding and a bit paunchy, but well dressed.

The chief question was why set up shop in a small town like New Castle, which is about as out of the way as one can get. The entire county had about 5,000 people then. It wasn't exactly a business mecca.

He said small town people deserved help, too, when I asked him the question.

Then he proceeded to tell me he could see by my aura that I'd had a troubling past. I raised my eyebrows but neither confirmed nor denied.

Next, he said he could see that I was not well. I was standing up doing this interview, as I recall, because there were no chairs, only his examining table. The next thing I knew, he was pointing to several places on my body. "You have a virus there, there, and there," he stated. One of the places he pointed to was in my pubic area, and since I was alone with this man, you can bet that made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Time to end this interview, I remember thinking. I thanked him for his time and began gathering my notebook and pocketbook.

The next thing I knew, Pete reached over, grabbed my head, and gave an expert twist to my neck. It happened so fast I had no time to react.

Things popped. Rice Krispies could not have been prouder.

A strange sensation shot up my back and into my head. It nearly knocked me off my feet. It definitely unnerved me, plus how dare this dude do anything to me like without my permission? I told him I didn't appreciate his touching me and I walked out.

I still had to write the article, and I wrote a nice article, I guess. I don't remember. Pete didn't last long in that little conservative town; he was gone within two months or less. I'm probably the only person who remembers he was ever there.

Anyway, to my amazement, my headaches that I'd had constantly eased. I could move my neck. I'd been in a couple of car wrecks and probably needed a chiropractic adjustment, just not, you know, without being asked about it first.

But the really odd thing was that within 10 days, every spot on my body that Pete had pointed to as being sick with a virus developed a mole.

I don't know what causes moles. There is a theory that some are caused by a virus, the human papillomavirus, to be exact. If that's the case, then I guess voodoo Pete was on to something.

Weird, eh?