Crystals light.

When PBS broadcast "Healing and the Mind," Bill Moyers' reasoned foray into alternative medicine, I thought of my Aunt Kay, a true believer in the healing power of crystals. Convinced that crystals could also prevent future afflictions, she kept her home sparkling from pantry to porch. How, ever, her lovely collection now graces my shelves, for it failed to intercept the un, timely end that disillusioned Auntie Kay.

These converts to New Age holistics include seekers like Marie, who sports a sliver of barite in the inflamed flesh of her pierced nostril, and her boy, friend Keith, who is into malachite. They represent the New Age version of the folks who enriched P.T. Barnum, ignoring his understated assertion, "There's a sucker born every minute."

Although I, too, love their color, their glitter and shine, and admire gems for their beauty alone, I prefer a science that calmly says "pyrite? to a fraud that promises "Gold!" What, then, does science say about gems, and how do New Agers respond? Well, since some savant has declared it the stone of my birth, let's consider the gem called aquamarine.

Science, with its rational, analytical approach, informs us that aquamarine is beryllium aluminum silicate, a member of the beryl family, and that its siblings are emerald, golden beryl, morganite, heliodor, and goshenite. It reveals that beryl cdildren run from deep blue-green to yellow and from brown to purple to clear, their tints determined by wisps of sodium, lithium, and cesium that color their crystalline cores. It reports that aquamarine is softer than corundum but harder than quartz, that its hexagonal crystals are often found lining the peg, matites of North Carolina, Colorado, and Vermont.

Not surprisingly, science has a great deal more to say; but, having sampled its approach, let's check out the New Age view, where reality wavers 'twixt here and there, and truth is whatever one says. This view is on display in a store/sanctuary in the warehouse district of St. Paul, Minnesota. In its windows and cases he eye-popping gems and crystals that prompt sighs and aaahhhs. I say to myself, "This is my kind of store," as I gawk at its pyrites, its calcites, and its bounty of baubulous delights. In a soothing touch, a gentle nocturne stirs the earth-scented air. How pleasant, how relaxing. Then I notice the little messages, a different one for each display.

"Calcite," one proclaims, "will enhance mental balance and alertness." (I could use a tad of calcite.) Citrine is pledged to "help unblock congestion on both emotional and physical levels" (Nothing needed there. As for my birthstone and its siblings, this emporium stocks only emerald, which "strengthens memory and increases intelligence" (Get a bit of emerald, too) and aquamarine, which, as I expected, is an absolute marvel.

Aquamarine, my birthstone, hot only treats "ailments of the head, neck, and throat"; it offers "protection for sensitive people" and should be worn to calm fears, ease anxiety, and to insure a good night's sleep."

I am truly impressed! Once again, I can stroll the streets in safety, protected by just a bit of aquamarine, my pockets freed of stun guns and mace. And for that good night's sleep, I'll simply slip a crystal or two into my pillow case and remove the old .38--no more anxiety, no more fear, and no more "Smith and Wesson" embossed upon my morning cheeks.

Suddenly, my scientific mind re, vives. "Would a larger, more expensive stone be more effective?" I ask. "Oh, yes," the clerk tells me. "And at what velocity, and how accurately must I throw this stone to protect myself." I pleasantly inquire.

The clerk's smile fades, replaced with a look of battleship gray. Sensing our dwindling rapport, I offer her thanks for her time, pick up my pamphlet on the "Uses of Gemstones and Mierals for Personal Transformation," and head for home. "What a shame," I muse. "Perhaps she should revise her chakra stone layout for increased harmony or wear a pound or two of... What's this? No crystal to `liberate laughter,' no gem to `expand one's sense of humor'?" Here, indeed, is a niche to fin, a void that beckons me.

And so, to close this crack in crystal holistics and to bolster the humor, impaired, I offer Menckenite. First distilled from the essence of snicker, it is synthesized in a secret lab in Smiley, Minnesota, population 36 (a Star City). Menckenite is reasonably priced at $120 per tenth-carat and is guaranteed to enhance one's sense of humor and pleasant nature (as it has our own).

One caution: overuse of Menckenite has been known to cause PMS (Post-Menckenite Syndrome), also known as skepticism--the intensity of the symptoms being proportionate to the amount of Menckenite purchased. We therefore urge our customers to limit their expenditures to modest sums--say $300 or $400 dollars per week.

In addition, those who follow our advice will be spared a depressing revelation concerning the New Age--or any age. It's about a system known to Las Vegas, to psychics, and to many religions as well. A few spot it quickly; others never catch on. Known as the first law of reality," it goes like this: "You give me money-i take it"

George Erickson, a retired dentist, is a member of the board of directors of the American Humanist Association. This article previousiy appeared in the Oaober 1993 issue of Minneapolis/st. Paul magazine and is here slightly abridged.