It was August Fifth, 1960, a clear beautiful day in Glendora, California. I was on my way to a new job. I was 17, full of anticipation and exuberance for this new experience.

I had been working at a mosaic picture factory in West Los Angeles as a "jack of all trades. "Shipping, cutting tile, making strip frames for the artwork, staining and varnishing same, and on occasion helping with production of the pictures.

I was hired because my then brother-in-law Joe Fisher was the manager. Although I loved the job, I felt I had to "prove" myself as a valuable worker and was delighted when one of the fellows I met while working there started his own sign shop and asked me to help him.

With my new found wealth of the past few months I had bought a new car. Well, kind of a car...actually it was a new model imported from Italy by the same people who made the Vespa Motorscooters. And it wasn't much more than a motorscooter in size, but it was New and it was Mine! I called it "The LoveBug."

I don't remember seeing the car that hit me head on that afternoon, but later on I saw pictures. It was a full size Chevrolet, hardly dented, but my little Vespa GS was wrapped around me like a wrinkled glove. She said she didn't see me...

But two weeks later as I awoke from the coma I'd been in, I began to remember something I'd seen, not a car, but a place, and music! The most beautiful music I'd ever heard. As it began to fall into place I remembered finding myself sort of standing in a cloud like area, couldn't see the ground, or sky either, but it was bright, and it seemed perfectly natural. I first heard the music and I looked to see where it could be coming from. In the distance I noticed a high snowcapped mountain and I realized the music was coming from the other side of it. It was totally enchanting, I imagined thousands of people singing in praise of a great being. The thought of it filled me with a longing to go and participate, and I started to walk in that direction.

As I took my first step I was halted by a voice and a presence in the clouds above. It said,

"No, go back, it's not your time yet."

It was a powerful presence, a�man, I had no doubt. But I was so strongly attracted to the music I replied

"But I want to go to the music!"

At this point imagine thunder, lightning, and a big, booming voice that said,

"GO BACK! IT'S NOT YOUR TIME!"

Well, regretfully, I turned, and as I did everything vanished! I later realized that at that moment I was transported back... I've been waiting for the time I could go and stay ever since.

As I slowly recovered from the trauma of a splintered left femur, broken left arm and hand, slight brain concussion and loss of blood, I learned what had happened to me. As I had entered the intersection of Glendora Ave. and Hwy.66 the lady had turned left in front of me. By chance there was a police car on the corner and the officers saw the entire event. By another twist of fate there happened to be an emergency clinic on the opposite corner. An ambulance was called and emergency treatment for blood loss was started immediately, but the injury was too much for the modest facilities at hand.

It was decided that if I�was to survive, I had to be taken to a modern hospital; St. Johns in Santa Monica, forty-five miles away.

My mother was waiting there when the ambulance arrived and by her account they wasted no time in getting me into surgery. But at some point during the procedure, the doctor, one of the best Orthopedics in L. A., came out of the operating room, head down, and apologized to my mother, saying he had done everything he knew but it wasn't enough, they had "lost" me. At about that time someone came bursting through the operating room doors and exclaimed, "We got him back!" The doctor donned his mask and rushed back into the O. R.

After that I was in intensive care for two weeks until I regained consciousness. For years I was afraid to tell anyone about this memory for fear of being thought a little crazy. But over time I read and heard other accounts, many of them similar, some identical. I no longer worry what others might say or think about this story. There is no doubt in my mind or heart that what happened was real, and that it was one of the places we can go upon leaving this "mortal coil." It left me with a kind of peace, in that I know "death," is not the end, but only a new beginning...