My mother was an avid devotee of Deepak Chopra.
She read his books without end, made sure to record him whenever he was on TV, attended his lectures, and listened to his recordings when she took her morning walk.
You can imagine my surprise when she called me one New Year’s Day and blasted open the phone conversation with the bomb shell, “Don’t ever buy me anything else from Deepak Chopra!”
“Uh, hi Mom,” I stammered, “Happy New Year to you too. What happened? Did he kill or molest someone?”
“Oh goodness no! He’d never do anything like that. He’s a very nice man.”
One might understand my confusion trying to square that circle. “Okay, so why is he now persona non-grata?”
“Did you read what he said in the L.A. Times?”
“No mom. I live in Eureka.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. Anyway, there’s a piece in the lifestyle section where the reporter asked several celebrities what they wish for their children in the coming year. I can’t believe what he said! I’m just so upset.”
