Do You Believe in Ghosts? I Do…Now

Last month, I spoke to dead people.

Perhaps, more accurately, they spoke to me.

For a very long time I’ve wanted to have a session with Wilton’s well-known medium, Anna Raimondi.

GOOD Morning Wilton profiled her back in October and since then she’s been someone I’ve heard quite a lot about. Not only is she known as a medium but she also teaches meditation and spiritual history, and is a reiki therapist and healer. But it’s her abilities as a medium that gets most people talking, and publishing that October article opened the proverbial floodgates–after it was published, I heard from friend after acquaintance after friend who had some sort of ‘Anna story.’

I was told about private readings, where Anna communicated messages and feelings from loved ones who had passed. I heard about the sold-out event she held at the Ridgefield Playhouse last fall that, according to a good friend who was in the audience, was “electric.” And I spoke to Isabelle Bell, who owns Bella & Co., a great Cannondale boutique that carries energy muse jewelry, crystals and many other items related to spirituality, in addition to other gifts and accessories. Not only does Bell host classes and sessions with Raimondi at the studio upstairs from the store, she also credits Raimondi with setting her on the path of retail store ownership in the first place.

“Before I even had Bella & Co., she was the one who told me I needed to do what I’m doing now. She told me she saw me owning this kind of store,” Bell attests.

So when the opportunity came to have a group reading with Anna, I immediately roped in 9 friends, and my sister. Amongst the group were full-on skeptics, skeptical believers and those open to anything. We didn’t know what to expect, and while each of us had different expectations and hopes, we were all curious about what the 2-hour or so reading would entail.

On a snowy February evening, the group gathered at my house, waiting for Anna’s arrival. We nibbled on apps and sipped wine and laughed nervously about what the night would turn out to be like. Anna’s instructions were pretty minimial–set up a room with chairs in a circle. She came in and asked for about 10 minutes alone in the room to get ready. Then we joined her.

Forget the crystal ball, forget the cliché scarf and gold hoops, and throw out anything you know about the Long Island medium (even though Anna playfully referenced that other famous psychic when she introduced herself as also being from Long Island). There sat this petite attractive Wilton mom, someone you might expect to see shopping in the next aisle at Village Market, or like me, once spot her sitting in the manicure chair down the row. She beckoned us to find our seats.

She explained that she’d been able to communicate and receive messages from spirits since as far back as she could remember. She said that the spirits we had around us all the time were there that night as well, and that they were eager to start relaying their messages to us. She explained how she’d work:  she’d start just talking about what she saw, heard and felt, relaying the clues that the dead were showing her and sharing with her, and as soon as any of us recognized anything–a name, an initial, a familiar story or detail–we should claim it. She’d already filled several pages of her notebook with names, dates and facts, things she’d already heard from the voices beyond as soon as she’d arrived.

And then she began.

Fancy Ladies, Rings and Corned Beef–Were They In the Cards?

For the next hour and a half to almost two hours, Anna proceeded with a stream of questions, information and declarations.

“Is there someone with a woman named Betsy? or Beth? She’s not a mother or grandmother, she’s someone like an aunt?”

“Who knows anything about a ruby ring?”

“I’m seeing two firemen. Who had firemen in their family?”

While I audio recorded the reading, I promised to keep the details private of the readings and experiences my friends had that night, but I wanted to share what I experienced.

I’d long wanted to sit for the reading with Anna because I’m a skeptical believer, something I called myself before that evening. It’s always been my personal spiritual philosophy that we’re accompanied by something of those family and loved ones in our lives who are no longer living–call it force, call it spirit, call it soul, I’m not sure what–but it’s always been comforting to think that we have some sort of energy from those who are no longer here with us still nonetheless.

I’m also reasonably educated and I’d like to think I’m intelligent enough to spot a ruse. I tried to watch for things that would raise an eyebrow–did anyone ‘feed’ her information that she was able to weave an all-too convincing tale? Was information she supplied specific and meant for just the individual on whom she focused, or was it more hazy and general with just enough of a whiff of possibility at which to grasp?

It was about 20 minutes into the reading when Anna asked, “Who has someone named Rose?”

My sister and I looked at one another. “We did. Rose was our great grandmother.”

“She was a very fancy lady,” Anna started. “She’s wearing gloves. And a hat. And boy is she fancy. She definitely wants me to know that.” Without more prompting, Anna began describing our great grandmother Rose Dubin, some details more spot on than others.

“She liked to entertain, and always wanted people to come to her. She liked to be the one in charge and the center of attention. But she drove herself crazy trying to do everything, and doesn’t want you to follow in her footsteps.”

Okay, the dressed to the nines thing, the hat and gloves, that was Rose. And yes, to say she was a presence is putting it mildly. (That’s Rose in the center of the picture accompanying this article–she’s flanked by my mother on the left, my grandmother on the right, and that’s me as a baby she’s holding on her lap.)

But some of the other things Anna asked could have been about anyone.

“She’s showing me a tablecloth. Do you have her linens? or some sort of white cloth?”

“Yes, I do,” my sister replied.

“She likes the way you’ve used them. Do you reuse them?” Anna asked.

My sister had, in fact. She had taken heirloom family linens, dresses and fabrics and made them into the chuppa, or Jewish wedding canopy, under which she was married. And under which I had been married. And under which we hope our children will eventually get married.

Anna continued:  “She very pleased that they’ll get passed down.”

Now, sure, judging by the market Anna’s dealing with, the likelihood of someone in the room having a relative who has family heirlooms or jewelry that gets passed down or displayed in the home is pretty high. But she struck on some very specific things in quick succession. And it wasn’t until we least suspected it that Anna hit the mark right on the bullseye.

We thought Rose had finished, that things moved on after the reference to the linens, and that perhaps other voices were now speaking through Anna to other people in the room.

“Who owned a restaurant? In Chicago?”  No one responded to Anna’s query.

“They’re showing me Chicago. And a restaurant.” Again, silence.

“I’m definitely getting food. And Chicago.”

Both my sister and I had lived in Chicago, at different parts in our lives. But Rose hadn’t and that was what was confusing. Rose, and her husband Morris, had owned a deli–albeit in Philadelphia.

“Bingo.” Anna said. Apparently, Rose wasn’t done until Rose said we were done.

“She’s showing me cards. She’s sitting at a table playing cards. And she’s in the back, she keeps telling me she’s in the back.”

Later on, after the reading, I played the recording of the session I’d made for my mother. And that’s what confirmed everything. “Rose played cards all the time with her friends,” my mom told me. “And her friends had to come to her, because she and Morris always had to be at the deli. They lived in the back behind the deli, and Rose and her friends would play cards at the table in the kitchen in back. Rose would be making the corned beef and playing cards. And she and her friends, they always dressed up.”

Win, Lose or Draw

So in honor of my card-shark, fancy deli-owning great grandmother Rose, I’ll use the card playing analogy to look back on the night:  for some it was a win, for some a loss and for others a draw.

Not everyone heard from a loved one. I guess in a group of 11 people who come together for a group reading, of the spirits they bring some will just speak up louder than others, and not everyone who was there heard from loved ones they’d lost. Some others did learn entertaining facts–we heard stories of renegade relatives and family intrigue thanks to some of what Anna relayed.

For a few people, there were spine tingling, hair raising, sob inducing … connections. And in retrospect, it’s that connection that we search for in our search for answers or direction or, for some, a sense of spirituality and holiness. Whether the things Anna said she heard and saw were irrefutable facts or intuitive assumptions, only each of the individuals there had to decide for herself.

For me, hearing the kinds of details that we did about Rose and some other family members, I’d have to say that it provided me with some affirmation of my beliefs, that I have the energy and strength of ancestors with me. Whether or not others believe, at least I can say it’s comforting for me to believe it’s so.

Watching others have similar strong confirmation that evening was even more reassuring, knowing that it somehow brought them peace. The mention of a personal detail that helped bring closure after the death of a parent or a sibling, a reassurance that life has a rhythm and balance, even after loss, was empowering. I’m grateful I had the opportunity to have the experience.

Anna Raimondi will be appearing at another large audience event on April 3 at the Westport Playhouse. Tickets are $50-$75 and can be purchased by calling the box office at 203.227.4177. For more information, visit her website.