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I have been promising for some time to give you an accounting of my early years in California, before I came to Denver and made my fortune in real estate.
When I was younger I must admit, as I have told you many times on this blog, I often wished that I could forget those early years; I wished that I could simply erase them from my memory.
That’s because those years were not happy years; they were not happy at all. The Uma Beecroft of those years was not the Uma Beecroft that all of you have come to know.
My happy years began when I came to Denver. Everything started to work for me here. They didn’t start right away, but little by little, the longer I lived here the better everything started to become for me.
They worked so well, in fact, that after I had been here for a little over a year or so, maybe a year and a half, I began to notice that things seemed to be falling into place in an almost magical way.
It was like some unseen, invisible Power was arranging everything for me. I could see that, but how was I supposed to believe it?
In those days I was a rationalist. I believed that there was a rational explanation for everything, and that if you looked hard enough for it, you would always, eventually, be able to find it.
But the way I made my fortune here in Denver was not rational. It was magical. As I look back, I realize that I myself didn’t really do much of anything at all. Everything just started happening all around me.
But…wait a minute. I was supposed to tell you about my early years in California in this blog. But here I am talking about my later years in Denver.
Oh well, such things do happen. I’ll tell you what: I’ll talk about my early years in California tomorrow.