Talk to Me (22 page)

On 25 August 2008 we arrived at Tombstone, the town where Doc Holiday and Wyatt Earp became famous for trying to establish law, and where the infamous fight at the O.K. Corral took place. I booked the ‘Rose Room' at the Silver Nugget Hotel, which faces the famous Birdcage Saloon. It's the only room I'll stay in when I'm in town. It just ‘feels' inhabited in a very cool way. It's not fancy, but it's real and a sort of time machine. The room also has a deck overlooking the Birdcage, and you can sit and play poker out there while tourists hustle back and forth in the street down below.

The first time I saw Terry Fisk was from the back, walking along the dusty road that ran down the centre of town. He was with his dad and two members of his team, Dawnette and Tammy. I called to him, ‘Hey, Terry, Allison DuBois. How are you doing?'

Terry was quirky. He reminded me of Dan Aykroyd in the movie
Ghostbusters
. He was really knowledgeable and had a real passion for his work. He also had an inner light that was obvious, and he was approachable as well as friendly. His dad was delightful, and excited and happy to be in Tombstone. I think the town brings out the inner child in people. Dawnette was a little brunette who was a girl-next-door sort with a fantastic laugh. Tammy had the energy of a twenty-year-old, and that was apparent when I'd crack a joke and she'd laugh, lightening hearts all around her. She had light blonde hair that looked like summer. All four were easy to like and be around.

After brief introductions, they asked where I'd like to start. I was immediately drawn to the courthouse, maybe because I've always felt a kinship with the law . . . Or maybe because it was the strongest concentration of spirit activity in Tombstone. The courthouse was the heart of the town, where people lived and died by the law—a good place for us to start. However, because the courthouse was closed when we got there, we gave Terry the impressions we received from the outside of the building, figuring we'd fact-check them the following day.

We decided to walk to the courthouse in the early morning when, according to paranormal investigators, there's quite a lot of spirit activity. Walking through Tombstone at that time of day felt as though we'd been transported back to 1885. I was very anxious and excited. There was a distinct feeling of fear, as well, which I'm not used to getting from spirits. I thought that maybe I was picking up on impressions left behind from gunfights that occurred long ago.

When we approached the courthouse I looked up and saw a judge in an upstairs window with a black derby hat, a beard and round wire glasses. I also saw little boys trying to peek around the corner to watch prisoners being led to the noose. I could see a man of the cloth there, praying for a condemned man's soul. Together Jaena and I painted the picture of an execution day through the information that the other side was facilitating for us. We were having an amazing time sampling the past. I went there to enjoy myself, and I was enjoying it all!

Before visiting the courthouse we had gone to the Birdcage Saloon at midnight, and had some interesting interactions with those who choose to remain there, tapping into the impressions left behind in the building from past occurrences. It was a little disheartening, because in the rooms where the prostitutes ‘did their business' I could hear them screaming from certain ‘surgical' procedures. I saw a cowboy sitting at the poker table that was roped off, and he kept waving me over to his table to sit with him; he must have thought I was there to ‘work'. It's a different time now, and I'm not that kind of girl, but that was still amusing to me. I couldn't help but chuckle knowing that this cowboy wanted my company.

For a medium, being there at midnight was like a ‘Haunted Disneyland'. What a one-of-a-kind experience! Our host warned us to watch out for the whiptail scorpions. That statement had me jumping around to make sure I had a clear view of the f loor. Scary! I don't care for scorpions, and I like to keep my distance whenever possible.

I'd like to thank Terry Fisk and his dad, Larry Fisk, for being such good sports and tackling Tombstone with me. I know I can be a handful sometimes. I really enjoyed seeing all of Terry's tools and gizmos for measuring energy and spirits. I truly loved the experience—it was definitely memorable—and one day I will do it again!

TERRY FISK TALKS ABOUT TOMBSTONE

When I talk about my experience with Allison DuBois in Tombstone at my speaking engagements and conferences, it brings me back to a most interesting interlude with a town with a lot of history, and the first time I met Allison in person.

I make sure I explain to people that the courthouse is now a museum, but when we first arrived there it had already closed for the day. So we walked about the outside of the courthouse building, and Allison gave me some of her impressions connected to the property. She pointed to a window on the first floor and said, ‘Inside that room I sense the handling of money.' Being sceptical, this didn't seem to make much sense to me, as this used to be a courthouse, not a bank.

We walked to the opposite side of the building where there was a huge brick wall with a locked gate. The wall was too high to see what was on the other side, but Allison said she sensed gallows and hangings that took place there in the 1800s. Since I couldn't see what was on the other side of the wall, I didn't know if this was accurate or not. Then Allison pointed to a window on the second floor where she could see a judge looking out the window. Allison said he was wearing a black derby hat and wire-framed glasses; he also had a white beard, and sported a little black bow tie. I looked up at the window, but I couldn't see anyone. The next day we returned to the museum after the doors had opened. We went to the room where Allison sensed the handling of money and noticed a sign that indicated it used to be the county treasurer's office. I went inside the room and found a huge walk-in vault that wasn't visible from outside the window. Her psychic impression seemed to be right on the money (no pun intended).

After that, we walked to the back of the courthouse and out the back door to see what was behind the brick wall. Lo and behold, we discovered a gallows with a historic marker that detailed the hangings that took place on that very spot in the 1800s.

We went back into the courthouse, up to the second floor, and to the window where Allison had seen a judge looking out. I hadn't seen anybody standing there, but I did notice some historic photos on the wall. One of these photos was of Judge James F. Duncan, a county judge in Tombstone for 36 years. He had served longer than any other Cochise County judge had ever served. I would assume that the courthouse would have become quite the home for the judge—after all, he spent a lot of time there. Then I took a closer look at the picture of Judge Duncan and noticed he had a black derby hat, wire-framed glasses, a white beard and a little black bow tie—just like the ghost Allison saw looking out of the window!

DEATH OF A SAMURAI

I am often asked, ‘Are there communication barriers for mediums if the deceased speaks a different language?'

Here is my answer to that very solid question.

I took my family with me to Tokyo for a
Medium
TV series/book tour. I hadn't anticipated the events that would follow my arrival.

Joe had asked me where I had wanted to go while in Tokyo. Please don't think me too morbid, but I felt drawn to the cemetery where the 47 Ronin Warriors were buried. The story of the samurai who had avenged the death of their lord fascinated me, and I wanted to walk their sacred grounds. Also, I wanted to take our girls to a Japanese tea ceremony, so that our daughters could learn of Japanese traditions and their respect for one another.

When our plane landed early in the morning in Tokyo my jet-lagged family of five was promptly greeted at the airport by an effervescent young man named Fumi. Fumi was our interpreter, and an energy ball of a person who also happened to moonlight as a saxophone player. From the get-go, it was clear that Fumi was going to be an outrageously interesting guide to have on our first trip to this beautiful country. He was excited to be our host and interpreter for the trip, and our girls grew very fond of him by the conclusion of our tour. Fumi had lived in Boston for a few years chasing his dream of playing his saxophone for large audiences in a jazz band. Since he had lived in America for quite some time, his English was good, and he was eager to absorb more of our American slang terms. Our daughter Aurora fed him a large helping of slang. His favourites were ‘Copy that' and ‘Right on!'

I had a busy schedule with the media, but was given a day and a half to acclimatise to the sixteen-hour time difference, and that was a good thing. My first work day was packed with interviews, and I was introduced to my interpreter, who would assist me with translating my English into Japanese for the media. Her name was Mari, and she was strangely familiar to me, as if we'd met before. Mari had a smile that was reassuring and ever-present to lift the spirit of any stranger. She was tall and slender, with delicate features, making her appear very feminine, yet she had a commanding presence; in her eyes you could see that she also had an iron inner-strength that grew from being worldly, as well as clearing many obstacles in her life with courage. She was a world-class interpreter who was used to working with stars such as Bruce Willis when the entertainment world came knocking. I never had to repeat myself once to Mari; she was my ‘one-take wonder'.

There was always a buzz in the air in the media room, and I would do well over twenty interviews in a day. These were long days, and I did this for several days. Although it was a lot of work, and I might still be a little scarred (just kidding!), what made it really great was the people and how engaging they were. They had a natural curiosity for learning about the other side, as well as learning about my family.

When I sat down with Mari and one of the many journalists, I could feel Mari's mother and grandmother's presence. So, to acknowledge them, I mentioned them hypothetically when speaking to Mari and the journalist. When I had an opportunity to use them in an example, I did so. I chose examples of interaction with the other side that were specific to what Mari's mother and grandmother were showing me. Joe knows that in an abstract sort of way, I will frequently use the information coming through to me as an example directed at the person whom it is intended for. I do this to not overstep my boundaries but still give the essence of the message to the living, leaving them thinking of their loved one and opening them up to the possibility that the message was connected to them.

Mari looked surprised when she heard my example, but continued in a professional manner, occasionally glancing over at me with question marks in her eyes. At the end of the interview we cleared the air, and I explained to her why I had mentioned her mum and grandma. She acknowledged them as being the two people closest to her whom she had lost. She was very happy to hear that they had such a strong presence in her life and that they were with her daily. So the bond between Mari and I had begun. It was the beginning of a chain of events that would leave us both speechless.

Mari and I would eventually do somewhere around 30 interviews together. It was a lot, but would no doubt be well worth it as we were launching
Medium
in Japan.

During one of the interviews, I was given another opportunity to pass information to Mari from her mother in the form of an example for the media. Mari's mum kept talking about her pearl ring that Mari had, and I relayed the object to Mari. She smiled at me and I could see that she was moved. After the interview was over, Mari shared with me that she was going to wear her mum's pearl ring to the interviews that day, but then opted not to. I told Mari her mum was letting her know that even without the ring on her hand, her mum was still with her. Mari sweetly smiled and took in the message.

While I was working, Joe received my itinerary and informed me that the following Sunday I was set to visit the Ronin cemetery on my first day off following the media tour. I apologised to Joe that it fell on Father's Day. He assured me that the history lesson would surely be fascinating, no matter what day it fell on.

Later that week when the media tour was coming to an end, Mari said she had heard that it was on my itinerary to go to the samurai cemetery on Sunday. I confirmed this, and Mari told me that coincidentally she was going to be there on Sunday, too, because it was her family's burial site as well. In addition to that, her uncle's memorial was being held that Sunday at the same time that we were going to be there. We were both a bit stunned by this, but also strangely amused, because we both knew that we were being brought there together for a reason. After all, there are no coincidences; somebody's always pulling the strings.

Sunday finally arrived like a long-anticipated friend showing up to meet us. Fumi, our animated host, escorted us to the cemetery, and he wasn't sure what to expect. He probably thought the ground would open up and swallow us all for my even thinking about communicating with the samurai.

Sengakuji is a majestic site, full of history, with an air of importance and beauty. The day was warm and lovely with a slightly ominous feeling in the air. Joe and our girls were expecting just about anything to happen, as they had travelled with me often and knew that I was a tour guide for the past.

We had barely entered the grounds when a petite Japanese woman came running towards us, seemingly frantic, waving her arms so furiously that even Fumi was taken aback (and he knew the language she spoke). We were at a disadvantage and felt like we were being rushed by a small woman with a message and a wild look in her eyes. I thought somebody needed the Heimlich manoeuvre or something, so I was prepared for an emergency situation to be thrust upon us. Judging from her demeanour, there was something urgent going on. It turned out that the woman was the wife of the head priest, and she knew Mari very well, so she was wrangling us in for tea and cookies. Mari had told her in advance that we were coming. Wow! Both a relief and a surprise. We were happy to oblige. Just as we sat down, Mari walked in and I stood to give her a hello hug. After the tea, we thanked the kind and lively woman for her generosity and embarked on our stroll through the headstones of the 47 Ronin samurai.