Don Felder And The Tarot Card Reading

ZackyDog

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1663340184585.png


Here's an excerpt from Don Felder's book, Heaven & Hell: My Life With The Eagles (1974-2001).

He, his wife and dog had moved to LA, Ca. circa 1972 from Boston, Ma. Initially, he stayed at his boyhood buddy's
house, Bernie Leadon, while Bernie was on tour with The Eagles. Thereafter, they got their own apartment.

We lived in that apartment for six months. Our only friends were our
next-door neighbors, a French couple named Marina and Jacquie Luade. He
was a mechanic with Citroën, and she was a housewife. The first time we
met, Marina looked at me and smiled. “You’re the one who walks with
rhythm,” she said.
“Pardon me?” I asked. Susan looked at her askance.
“When you walk up the stairs,” Marina explained, “you walk with
rhythm.”
She fancied herself as a bit of a mystic and offered to read my tarot cards
one afternoon. I agreed, more out of politeness than anything. “It can’t
hurt,” I told Susan. “I mean, what can she tell me?”
I went to her apartment as arranged one afternoon and sat down opposite
her at a small table. She shuffled the cards and spread them out in front of
her.
“Oh my God!” she said, her accent as thick as butter, as her long fingers
ran across the cards one by one.
“What?” I asked, concerned, looking helplessly at the table. “What is it?”
“You,” she said, looking up at me, her green eyes huge.
“What about me?” I was getting a little edgy. Maybe I was wrong, maybe
there was something terrible she could tell me.
Her face broke into an enormous smile. “You, my darling,” she said,
reaching across the table and squeezing my arm excitedly, “are going to be
very famous and very, very wealthy
.”
“Really?” I asked, wondering if she’d had a little too much Pernod.
“Absolutely,” she nodded firmly. “It’s written in the cards.”


Pretty interesting, huh?

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Last edited:

Mike Eskimo

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I had heard this story too, But the way it was told to me is that right after that, she said “uh-oh” as she turned over the Three Money Grabbers card and then immediately flipped the Ace of Bad Decisions and then , she just sighed and looked down at her hands…🫣😿🤦🏼‍♂️
 

Greggorios

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It was back in the 80s and was at the suggestion of a lady friend who thought it would be fun; always a warning sign-should have known better. The "gypsy" told me all this general stuff that probably could have applied to 90% of anyone walking down the street. The final wrap up was that I had a very dark aura following me around. It was the 80s for cripe's sake!...like I needed to pay $25.00 to figure that one out? The remedy of course was that for another $20.00 she'd light some candles and give me some personalized incantation that would "bring the light". I passed on the incantation and we went out for shots and wings instead. :rolleyes:
 

Cali Dude

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I read it as well. It was quite entertaining. I imagine he made a boat load of cash. I too have had my "Cards read", more than once. My results were strangely accurate for my future. Not always a good thing.
 

getbent

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View attachment 1029316

Here's an excerpt from Don Felder's book, Heaven & Hell: My Life With The Eagles (1974-2001).

He, his wife and dog had moved to LA, Ca. circa 1972 from Boston, Ma. Initially, he stayed at his boyhood buddy's
house, Bernie Leadon, while Bernie was on tour with The Eagles. Thereafter, they got their own apartment.

We lived in that apartment for six months. Our only friends were our
next-door neighbors, a French couple named Marina and Jacquie Luade. He
was a mechanic with Citroën, and she was a housewife. The first time we
met, Marina looked at me and smiled. “You’re the one who walks with
rhythm,” she said.
“Pardon me?” I asked. Susan looked at her askance.
“When you walk up the stairs,” Marina explained, “you walk with
rhythm.”
She fancied herself as a bit of a mystic and offered to read my tarot cards
one afternoon. I agreed, more out of politeness than anything. “It can’t
hurt,” I told Susan. “I mean, what can she tell me?”
I went to her apartment as arranged one afternoon and sat down opposite
her at a small table. She shuffled the cards and spread them out in front of
her.
“Oh my God!” she said, her accent as thick as butter, as her long fingers
ran across the cards one by one.
“What?” I asked, concerned, looking helplessly at the table. “What is it?”
“You,” she said, looking up at me, her green eyes huge.
“What about me?” I was getting a little edgy. Maybe I was wrong, maybe
there was something terrible she could tell me.
Her face broke into an enormous smile. “You, my darling,” she said,
reaching across the table and squeezing my arm excitedly, “are going to be
very famous and very, very wealthy
.”
“Really?” I asked, wondering if she’d had a little too much Pernod.
“Absolutely,” she nodded firmly. “It’s written in the cards.”


Pretty interesting, huh?

View attachment 1029309
he was wearing a henley shirt that day.
 

getbent

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That rarely happens at a fortune teller's.

🙄
we got drunk one night and ended up at the fortune teller's
she was about 40ish and lots of dramatic makeup.
she read a couple of my friends, then it was my turn...
I was not paying much attention... but, after a couple of cards she gasped and smiled slyly and said, 'Can I see it?'

and I smiled, blushed and said....
 

Toto'sDad

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we got drunk one night and ended up at the fortune teller's
she was about 40ish and lots of dramatic makeup.
she read a couple of my friends, then it was my turn...
I was not paying much attention... but, after a couple of cards she gasped and smiled slyly and said, 'Can I see it?'

we got drunk one night and ended up at the fortune teller's
she was about 40ish and lots of dramatic makeup.
she read a couple of my friends, then it was my turn...
I was not paying much attention... but, after a couple of cards she gasped and smiled slyly and said, 'Can I see it?'

and I smiled, blushed and said....
Baby lock them doors, and turn the lights down low, put some music on that's soft and slow.
 

Deeve

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Ballard
View attachment 1029316

Here's an excerpt from Don Felder's book, Heaven & Hell: My Life With The Eagles (1974-2001).

He, his wife and dog had moved to LA, Ca. circa 1972 from Boston, Ma. Initially, he stayed at his boyhood buddy's
house, Bernie Leadon, while Bernie was on tour with The Eagles. Thereafter, they got their own apartment.

We lived in that apartment for six months. Our only friends were our
next-door neighbors, a French couple named Marina and Jacquie Luade. He
was a mechanic with Citroën, and she was a housewife. The first time we
met, Marina looked at me and smiled. “You’re the one who walks with
rhythm,” she said.
“Pardon me?” I asked. Susan looked at her askance.
“When you walk up the stairs,” Marina explained, “you walk with
rhythm.”
She fancied herself as a bit of a mystic and offered to read my tarot cards
one afternoon. I agreed, more out of politeness than anything. “It can’t
hurt,” I told Susan. “I mean, what can she tell me?”
I went to her apartment as arranged one afternoon and sat down opposite
her at a small table. She shuffled the cards and spread them out in front of
her.
“Oh my God!” she said, her accent as thick as butter, as her long fingers
ran across the cards one by one.
“What?” I asked, concerned, looking helplessly at the table. “What is it?”
“You,” she said, looking up at me, her green eyes huge.
“What about me?” I was getting a little edgy. Maybe I was wrong, maybe
there was something terrible she could tell me.
Her face broke into an enormous smile. “You, my darling,” she said,
reaching across the table and squeezing my arm excitedly, “are going to be
very famous and very, very wealthy
.”
“Really?” I asked, wondering if she’d had a little too much Pernod.
“Absolutely,” she nodded firmly. “It’s written in the cards.”


Pretty interesting, huh?

View attachment 1029309
just picked it up from the library - as an audio book
 




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