STAR KIDS - The Emerging Cosmic Generation

Preface

So why does a mild-mannered researcher and hypnotherapist, a former universityprofessor and clinic director, get involved in such an exotic matter as the Star Kids phenomenon?Good question. As was true also in my research with experiencers of contact by the Star Visitors,I not so much went looking for the Star Kids and the Star Seeds, as they came looking for me.Let me provide you with a little background on this.The first stage of my involvement with matters cosmic began in 1989, when I beganworking with experiencers of Star Visitor encounters. I had been a professional psychotherapistfor three decades, and thought that I had heard everything. But in 1989 I found out that I had not.That year I had four different persons seek me out for counseling about minor problems of dailyliving. These individuals were mentally sound and ordinary responsible citizens, one is even arecognized figure in Republican political life in my state. But after having worked with them incounseling a while, these four separate individuals decided to let down their hair a little furtherand tell me about contacts they had had from Star Visitors.I was jolted by their accounts of contact, but having worked with them already for awhile, had already determined that they were not crackpots. Nor did they have any motivation of personal gain from telling their story to me. For everything told to a professional psychologist isconfidential. There would be no attention coming to them, nor did they seek any. They told metheir experiences at some perceived personal risk. Each told me they were sure that after I heardwhat they had to say, that I would commit them to the state mental hospital. But I did not. As itturned out, I had the background to properly assess their accounts, not only s a psychologist, butas a person who had followed the UFO phenomenon for many years. You see, I was born beforethere was a UFO Cover-Up.I was eight years old when I heard my parents talk about the newspaper report of aprivate pilot, sheriff’s deputy Kenneth Arnold, who had spotted a V-formation of round winglesscraft flying near Mount Rainier, Washington State in June, 1947. Deputy Arnold dubbed them“flying saucers”, and the term stuck. Three weeks later, our daily paper and every paper in thecountry ,ran a front-page story that a flying saucer had been reported captured by the Army nearRoswell, New Mexico. I remember thinking to myself, “Gee, that’s neat: there are other peoplein the universe and we’re not the only ones.”And in 1952, I was in eighth grade and reading the daily paper for myself. There was noway I could miss the big scream headlines and photos that July reporting UFOs repeatedly flyingover the U.S. Capitol night after night. And how theArmy Air Corps sent up fighter planes whocouldn’t catch up with them.It was right after that, in 1953 that the government invented the UFO Cover-Up, andbegan having prominent scientists and Air Force Public Information Officers go before the presstodeny and discredit UFO sighting reports. But it was too late. The seniors in our population stillremember the truth from the good old days when the newspapers covered UFO sightings like anyother valid news story, and had nothing to fear from the government for doing so.The second stage in my involvement with this phenomenon came in 1977. At the time Ilived in Woodacre, a tiny bucolic rural village in Marin County just north of San Francisco’sGolden Gate Bridge. A neighbor buddy and I were hiking atop the hills above the village when I

looked up and saw a shiny metallic disc slowly skittering across the sky. We were at about 600feet altitude and the disc was about 2000 feet above us and over slightly to the southwest,tracking a northwesterly course. I noted the direction of the wind, which was coming out of thenorthwest. So, clearly what I saw was not a Mylar balloon, (because the disc was trackingupwind.) I called out to my hiking companion and pointed for him to look at the disc. Icommented to him, “It looks like I’ve seen my first UFO.” It was not to be my last.The third stage in my involvement with the Star Visitors occurred in 1992.

On April 12, 1992, I was proceeding west on Interstate 10 towards Deming, NewMexico in my Chevy Blazer. Ihad my CB radio on, listening to and talking withtruckers along the way. At Deming, I turned off I-10 onto U.S. Hwy 180, headingnorthwest towards my destination for the night, a campground in Gila National Forest.U.S. Hwy180 is a two-lane blacktop roadthat goes in an almost straight line for 53miles between Deming and Silver City, through absolutely empty and featureless Sonoranscrub desert. It's mostly flat, with an occasional gentle rise, andthis night had maybe three cars on it besides mine the entire length of the road.When I left Interstate 10 at Deming, it was just after 11 p.m., on a cloudlessand starry night in the pitch-black desert. As I pulled away from the Interstate, theCB audio traffic died out due to the distance. I was weary but alert enough to safelycomplete my drive to the campground. I estimated I would arrive by 12:30 a.m. As Isettled in to this final leg of a long day's drive, I was aware that the road rosegently after about 15 miles. It was at about 11:20 p.m. I vaguely noticed a patch ofbright whiteness shining in the moonlight on a rise over to the left, about 200 yardsoff the road. I remember vaguely considering it must be a patch of snow. (Later Irealized that there could not have been snow at this lowest part of the southernmostregion of the New Mexico desert.)About this time I heard a loud voice, which I at first presumed came from myCB, saying in an Arkansas twang, "Watch out for the smoke!" At first I figured thatsome trucker ahead of me was warning anyone about a State Trooper (“Smokey [Bear]” inCB lingo) that he had spotted. So I got on the CB and asked "Where is the Smokey?" Iwas surprised when I got no answer. This is the only time in my experience that a CB-er failed to provide location information tofollow up on a State Trooper warning.Then I noticed that the voice had seemed to have come from behind me to my left.(Later, reflecting that my CB speaker was mounted below my dash in front of meslightly to the right, I realized the voice could not have been coming out of my CBradio.) The strangeness had only begun.Almost at once I saw what looked like a huge luminous cloud of what looked likesmoke stretched across the highway from the leftmost part of the rise to the rightmostpart, and up to the sky, forming a solid curtain across the highway. I presumed thatit was my bad luck to be running across smoke from a forest fire. So I went back onthe CB to ask anyone out there, "Where's the fire? Does anyone know about the fire onUS 180?" Again, the radio silence was spooky. No answer came from “Arkansas Twang” oranyone else. I started to broadcast again, then gave up lamely, since I was just aboutupon the presumed smoke cloud ahead stretched across the highway. . I cursed my luck,and in a few seconds calculated what a long detour I would have to drive if this fireblocked the highway, versus the risk of plowing through the smoke blindly, hoping itwas just a hundred feet thick or so, so I could break through to the other side andcomplete my journey. I drove into the smoke, taking my foot off the gas to slow downin case I didn't pop through the other side quickly. I didn't. Not for an hour.The smoke seemed to be coming off what I thought was a hillside to the left ofme. I couldn't see the road, the center line or anything. So I came to a stop. (Later,in hypnotic recall, I noted that there were no trees or brush burning, no blackened orcharred chaparral, and that the "smoke" had no odor! Nor was this fog, not in theSpringtime sea-level bone-dry Sonoran desert with the air temperature nowhere near thedew point.) I sat defeated in my car, stopped in the right lane of U.S. 180 in themiddle of nowhere. The greyish-white vapor did not dissipate. So I got out, walkedacross the road to the left shoulder, towards where the ground rose slightly up,disoriented in the cloud.I got the impression that there were low scrub pinon pines spaced apart in thevapor. I stepped across a little ditch at the edge of the road and walked towardsthese "pinon pines," then stopped, unable to see ahead. (I presumed there were pinonpines there, but a friend who later re-drove that road told me there were none on that

stretch.) Then I went into a state of paralysis. I could not move my body. I sensedthe approach of twopersons, who got on either side of me and each placed a firm gripon my forearms. I cannot recall actually viewing them. The funny thing about theirhands was that theirs was a

three-fingered

grip. Their fingers were long and didn'tfeel like human fingers. They did not have articulated bones, but instead felt likethere was continuous cartilage inside with a padded fleshy exterior. The gripconsisted of two fingers on top of my forearm and one finger underneath. The fingerswere not much wider than human ones but quite long. And their grip was like a vise. Itwas clear I was going with them. Frankly, I had no better idea, anyway.I was led forward and to the left, in the general direction of what I hadoriginally presumed was the "snow patch" gleaming in the moon-light. Soon we arrivedat a landed metallic vehicle. I stopped about five feet in front of the midpoint ofits long side. It was shaped like a flattened arch, with rounded ends. The bottomseemed more flat, but that may be because it was partially sunk into the sand. It wasa metallic color, about the color of Airstream trailers, only not so bright. Thelength I would estimate at 35-50 feet and the height at midpoint at 10-12 feet.A rectangular opening appeared in the side of the craft. Next thing I remember,(my memories are somewhat disjointed), I’m sitting back in a chair in a room insidethe craft, feeling spacey and numb. I gradually realized that I was alone; they hadleft. The lighting in there was subdued. The air inside was of sort of a neutraltemperature, not sharply cold like the desert night air. It smelled stale, like therecycled air you encounter in an airliner during a trans-continental flight.After awhile they came back. The one who had the stronger grip when we met, theone on my right, felt like a male presence. As he came back in, I had a quick glimpseof his face. He had a roundish oval face with two large horizontally ovoid black eyesthat did notslant or wrap around the side. No irises or pupils, just black all theway across the eye. I did not notice a nose, and got more of an impression than a viewof a mouth. I did not clearly see, but got the impression of a thin torso and limbs.His height I would estimate at five feet. He seemed placid, sort of matter-of-fact. Hewas definitely not human, but unmistakably an intelligent life form. The other StarVisitor had had a gentler yet still firm grip on my left forearm when we encountered.The feeling was of a lighter, gentler persona, possibly a female.I was escorted into another room, which was also dimly lit, and placed in areclining position, something like the posture one has in a dentist's or astronaut'schair. I felt a buzzing, stimulating, resonating sensation in the triangular areadefined by the tops of my eyebrowsand the bridge of my nose, and focused about aquarter-inch inward from skin surface. (This is a sensation I would become quitefamiliar with in the days and months ahead. It has heralded and accompanied subsequentStar Visitor contacts.) I experienced a sense of pressure in my nose, as if a smallobject was being introduced into my nasal passages or even a little higher.(Afterwards for four or five days I had a sense of excessive pressure there, alongwith a feeling of light buzzing resonance and pressure in my head that was almost likea headache, but not quite.)Next, I had a sensation of the release of restraints around my ankles. Theserestraints were not physical restraints, but more of an immaterial, force-field kind.I understood that the Star Visitors were done, and I was free to go. I got up. Thenext segment of the event I remember is being outside the craft in the night airfloating horizontally towards my vehicle. After that I became aware of being behindthe wheel, driving below the speed limit, the "vapor" dissipating, and I'm breakingout of the "smoke cloud" and resuming my drive northwest up U.S. 180. I continued mytrip to the Gila National Forest campground, where I camped for the night.When I woke up the next morning, I had no memory of my Close Encounter. But Idid notice four odd things. I had a strange fullness and pressure feeling in my uppernasal passage area and a dull, almost headache-like symptoms I had never had before. Iwrote it off to fatigue. As I put on my socks I alsonoted that there were two tinyscoop marks side-by-side on top of my right great toe, each like a shallow crater thatyou could rest the base of a BB in. I was startled, because I am no stranger to thebody-marks literature of extraterrestrial encounters,which includes scoop marks fromtissue sampling. But denial set in, and I said to myself, "Nah, that can't be that!"Then I reflected that I had arrived at the campground at least an hour after myestimated time; and on the open roads of New Mexico, wherea minute can equal a mile,I had become quite precise at calculating traveling time.Lastly, I noticed, with curiosity, that overnight my attitude towards