Kevin Riordan: A mind-reader? Appears so

On a gloomy afternoon on the gloomy south side of Syracuse, N.Y., in 1972, a psychic read my mind.

There simply was no other explanation; the memory still gives me a chill.

"She heard you," Meg Adams says. "She heard you mentally."

An experienced psychic, Meg reads cards ("52 poker deck - not Tarot"). She does readings privately, at house parties, and by appointment at Devone's restaurant in Williamstown.

She's a warmhearted, down-to-earth lady who takes her job seriously.

And her fans love her.

"I've hosted many readings, and I've never met anybody like her," says Peggy Bradford of Washington Township. "She cares about everybody she reads, and she's right on the money. I could listen to her for hours."

Says Meg: "I tell people what I see. I ask them if they want to know everything I see, because I can see accidents, I can see illnesses, I can see death."

She's going to see what's in store for a certain columnist. But first, a bit of background.

A mother of four who lives in Clementon, Meg - no age, please - grew up in a foster home in Northeast Philadelphia. A massive infection nearly killed her at age 5, and after awakening from a four-day coma, she realized she had received a gift.

"I knew things other people didn't," Meg recalls. "I already had a view of what was going to happen. I could see it, in detail."

She largely kept quiet about her abilities until the 1970s, when she began visiting psychics. "They said, 'You should be doing this,' " says Meg, who's also worked as a hairdresser and waitress. "A psychic knows another psychic."

A friend taught Meg how to read the cards - on the condition she promise never to teach anyone else. Since then, readings have become a major source of her income. She describes her fee as "reasonable."

There's demand even in a recession ("People want to know what's going to happen with their money"). And Meg offers not only a glimpse of the future, but the opportunity to revisit the past.

"I talk to dead people - that is so interesting. You would love that!" she says.

I'm not so sure - this talk of séances in beauty salons, of inspiration from spirit guides, and contact with evil spirits ("Believe me, that can happen in this business.") is deepening my skepticism.

I doubt the future can be seen in cards. I believe dead people are pretty much dead. And I think many individuals who claim psychic powers are empowering themselves to make money.

Then again, 38 years ago a psychic I'd never met pulled from the air (in my head?) the highly unusual name of a friend I was thinking about at that very moment. Which suggests to me that not all psychic phenomenon can be explained away as wishful thinking, lucky guesses or parlor tricks.

So on to my reading.

"Let me have your car keys, please," says Meg, explaining that metal picks up a person's "vibrations."

She returns the keys and asks me to shuffle the cards.

"Give me 21 please, right there in a pile," she says, drawing the cards out one at a time and arranging them on the tabletop.

"Right now what's going on with you is personal," Meg says. "It's like a concern. I'm feeling a family member around you. I'm feeling a deep concern."

(Bingo.)

"Anybody planning a wedding? It's not definite yet . . . and there may be a baby on the way."

(A what?)

Meg asks me for another 10 cards, then another. Her tone is confidential, not theatrical.

"Your job looks like it's really on a roll."

(Now we're talking).

"I don't see any raises for you right now."

(Um, can we re-boot?).

She does see a dark-haired woman.

A conflict about money.

Someone receiving a gift - of a house.

(Someone like . . . me?)

I ask Meg about my terrific 24-year-old nephew, who may be deployed to Afghanistan soon. Startled by the wobble in my voice, I ask Meg if she sees anything bad happening to Daniel.

"No, absolutely not," she says kindly. "Don't worry about that. I see lots of happiness around him."

And Uncle Kevin couldn't be happier.