Martha Bowman, Tea Leaf Reader, New York City, 1947: A Fictional Monologue

By Debbie L. Miller

I guess I’m what you’d call a Bohemian, a unicorn in a horse world. I don’t have children, by choice, which is unheard of in these times. And, I’m a redhead. There are still people who consider redheads to be witches, or at the very least, strange and scary. They also see being childless the same way, actually. The way I see it, it’s just one more thing that makes me special, which is okay with me.

I also don’t shave my legs. What for? I can’t see the use. Why get rid of something that could be the source of my special powers?

Anyway, yes, I’m a tea leaf reader. I know, I know. It’s a parlor trick, it’s not real, it’s a scam. I’ve heard it all. The talk doesn’t bother me because I know who I am and I know I have a gift. And, people who come to see me believe I have it, too. That’s all that matters.

I grew up in Cleveland, the Midwest. Not a place where you’d think psychic people would come from. I left when I was 16. I didn’t graduate from high school. Didn’t see the use.

I started following the carnival circuit and rode the rails. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I traveled around a lot and saw a lot of this country. I loved the carnivals. The most interesting people work at carnivals…