A Teacup Reading at the Silk Hat restaurant, 1941by Donalda Lloyd

Donalda Lloyd get a mysterious message from the teacup reader at The Silk Hat, circa 1941.

It's unusual for a man to have his teacup read, but my Dad was always ready for fun. During one of our infrequent trips to Edmonton, my mother suggested that we meet Grandma and Aunt Ethel at The Silk Hat to have our teacups read. We drank our tea, turned the cups upside down, made our wish, ate the cake and waited for the teacup reader.


"Donalda," whispered my Dad to me, "wouldn't it be fun to switch cups? Then I'll be sure to know what fate awaits you when you're here in the city by yourself."


It sounded like a good idea to me. The lady finally came looked in our cups, told us forgettable events that she saw in our future, and left.


"I'm sure she saw you change those cups," Mother complained. "The teacup reader just wasn't interested in reading any of our fortunes."


A few months later, when my sister and I were attending Normal School, several of our friends decided we should return to The Silk Hat one afternoon to have our cups read.


When my turn came she said, "Your future looks good. You have a long lifeline, but I must warn you about possible trouble. I see where you are going to hurt your big toe and it will bother you for the rest of your life. Do be careful."


Everyone, including me, thought this was hilarious. Imagine seeing a troublesome toe in a teacup. But later that week, when I stubbed by big toe on a metal post, I wasn't laughing. Although I didn't break or sprain it, for weeks walking was difficult and skating almost impossible. A few years later, the same toe began to hurt, usually in the winter. Now, I pamper my feet, keep them snugly warm through the cold days, knit wool socks just because of it, place felt insoles in my winter boots, and am thankful she didn't predict trouble for some other more vulnerable part of my body.


What happened later makes me believe that this lady could foretell the future. A cousin of mine was delighted when the reader said, "I see a large black box coming to your house very soon."


"Wonderful!" said my cousin. "I'm going to get my piano after all."


The following week she died in a tragic automobile accident. The black box was her coffin.