Most of us know about Nostradamus. Today is his birthday, which occurred way back in 1503. I was going to write about him, but that would be so —- predictable.
However, it is hard not to mention him. I just read a short account of his life. From that account, he seemed to be a nice enough guy, having started out as a doctor. He traveled the lands of France for years, treating, and fighting the Plague. The Plague, which was not caused by rats or mice, as was once thought. But rather human fleas and lice were the main cause of the centuries of death.
Anyway, Nostradamus. He was so good at fighting the disease, he gained great favor among the people. He was sort of a Healer-Celebrity. Mostly what he did was clean up the sick people. Get them some fresh air. Remove dead-plague bodies from the street gutters. Gave patients Vitamin C. Those sorts of things. But everybody loved him, and treated him like Oprah. Of course, he didn’t buy people cars like Oprah does. Cars weren’t invented for another 348 years. But a celebrity, none-the-less.
Until. One day, in 1538, he was walking along and made some sort of offhanded comment about a religious statue. He probably said something like, “What’s with the skirt, Jesus?” At any rate, some fuddy-duddy religious fanatic overheard him. And before he knew it, Nostradamus was facing heresy charges.
He was ordered to appear at an Inquisition. For those of you who haven’t been to one, an inquisition is an extremely prolonged and intensive period of questioning. Investigation. Sometimes, even torturous interrogation. So old Nostra D (as I like to call him), decided he was busy that day. So busy, in fact, he missed the Inquisition, and hopped over to Italy, Greece, and Spain for about a decade.
He eventually went back to France. That’s when he married a rich widow. They got busy and had three kids. Papa Nostra D. But by this time, he was over 50 years old. And THAT. That is when he started putting his Psychic Hat on. That is when the visions began. After 50. Ironically, a point of note here. That’s when my Psychic visions started. I predicted Trump would be President, and look what happened.
Anyway. It seems that Nostradamus would spend prolonged hours, sitting in front of a bowl of water, and staring. Ironically, AGAIN, I do this. When I want to make Lipton Instant Soup. The Chicken Noodle kind with the really skinny noodles, and oh-so-great with saltine crackers dunked in. But then my predictions go all haywire, as I typically have the TV too loud while I am eating. But I do that so I can hear over the slurping noises.
Back to Nostradamus. I won’t list all the hits and misses on the Prophecies here. There is plenty already written about that. The Great Fire of London. Adolph Hitler’s birth. The assassination of the Kennedy’s. The big 80% Off Sale at Sears when they closed their doors. It is all in his predictions book.
And finally, came the end. In 1566, he died. He had trouble with gout for a long time. And complications set in. Dropsy. Which is really Edema. But for years, I thought Dropsy had to be some kind of disease like Parkinson’s, where people shook uncontrollably, and every time they would pick something up, they would drop it. Hence, the name of the disease. Dropsy. But as you know, that isn’t the case at all.
I always used to get things mixed up that way. I used to think that Fish Sticks, were really Fish Dicks. And that caused quite a stir for me at my Catholic Grade School, with Sister Adriana, at lunch one day. Nostradamus surely couldn’t have seen that one coming.
As for me and my Psychic Visions? Well, sometimes I am a sad Psychic. Sometimes I am an anxious Psychic. On of these days, I simply hope to be a Happy Medium.
“I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing.”
― Plato, The Republic
“Even though there are no ways of knowing for sure, there are ways of knowing for pretty sure.”
― Lemony Snicket
“Mankind will discover objects in space sent to us by the watchers…”