Linda Goodman's Sun Signs

by Linda Goodman

  They behave much the same way when it comes to generosity and giving. Cancer’s heart is too soft not to be touched by someone’s need. He truly cares and he wants to help. But he’ll sit back cautiously and wait to see if there’s anyone else who might move in first. Why should he foolishly squander his time or money if it is not necessary? When all other sources fail, when no other help shows any sign of materializing, Cancer will rescue the struggler at the last minute. He’ll let you go down twice, but he’ll save you just before you submerge the third time. He’s too kind to watch you drown, but he’s certainly not going to get all wet if there’s a life guard around, or if it looks as if you can swim to shore yourself. It’s self-preservation, not selfishness or unkindness. The crab’s heart is soft at the core, under his hard, conservative outer shell. But there’s just so much of his time, his money and his emotions he has to give, and he chooses to distribute each wisely. His eventual gesture will often be grand and generous. Yet, in his mind, it’s only sensible to watch and wait before plunging. No one could accuse him of being impulsive.

  When he does make a move, he’ll want some sort of track record behind him—or behind you. The crab carefully calculates his actions on experiences, either his own or someone else’s. He needs the strength of an accepted precedent or the assurance of financial security as a foundation. He fears going it alone without such an insurance policy, which is why most of his ventures are successful and each final move a coup de grace, executed with finesse. Naturally, Cancerians will seldom stumble into deep holes in the dark. With a fiery Moon sign, or a fire sign on the ascendant, he may gamble on an occasional maneuver, but if he fails, he’ll be miserable about going against his own better inner judgment. Leo or Sagittarius influences may have driven him to act, but when he falls back on his own Sun sign after defeat, misery sets in. Cancer tends to brood over mistakes instead of shrugging off bad luck and trying again, and it will be some time before he takes another chance.

  Male or female, the Cancerian loves his home with a respect bordering on reverence. No devout high priest of ancient times ever considered his altar more sacred than Cancer considers the place where he hangs his old hat. You’re liable to notice a sampler on his wall with the words, “There’s No Place Like Home, Be It Ever So Humble.” (Yes, I know the verse is backwards, but his little girl made it at school, and to him it’s a masterpiece, a pearl beyond price. Admire it often.) His home is where he plays, lives, loves, dreams and feels safe. Though he may travel over half the earth in connection with his career, no Cancer person is ever quite happy without a hearth to call his own. Sometime make a point of noticing the expression on the face of a crab who has just returned home from a long trip. Pure ecstasy.

  No matter how much money he piles up in reserve, Cancer never feels really secure, and no matter how much love he gets, he always needs more. His emotions never let him become sure enough to relax completely. He’s always piling up tangibles against some imaginary future disaster. Some Cancerians actually stockpile food of all kinds under their beds. It keeps away those nightmares. You may think that’s stretching the truth, but when was the last time you looked under a Cancer’s bed? If you don’t find the canned foods there, look on the closet shelves. You may find two dozen cans of paprika and twenty-eight boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese he bought on sale in 1983. What’s he saving it for? Don’t ask ridiculous questions. There might be a famine someday. He’s prepared. (Noah must have been born in July. The flood didn’t catch him with his rudders down, either.) Why doesn’t he use all that paprika and all those breadcrumbs? The answer to that one raises another question. Why doesn’t he use those fourteen pairs of new pajamas and the seven dozen cashmere scarves he’s been given over the years as gifts? They’re still in the original tissue paper. Who knows? Maybe he’s planning to wrap them around the animals to keep them warm when the next flood comes. Could be. He thinks that far ahead, and he remembers yesterday’s catastrophes vividly, even if he wasn’t there.

  You’ll often find the Cancerian on the water. If he’s not swimming, he’s water-skiing or at the very least, wading. Unless there’s some definite planetary affliction in his natal chart that makes him fear the waves, he’ll usually be found spending most of his leisure time on a beach. Lots of Cancer people own their own boats. He’d much rather have a trim little ship he can escape to than a dozen color television sets and fifty limousines. Some crabs have fabulous yachts, but even if it’s a rowboat or a canoe, he’ll blissfully row, paddle or steer it to happiness. It’s as though the Cancerian has a special, private dream that’s been lost out there somewhere in the deep waters, and he keeps seeking it. Over half the crabs you meet will be weekend sailors. Maybe it’s the moon and the tides calling him. Whatever it is, he’s never as moody when he’s happily walking his own deck in the tennis shoes he bought when he graduated from college. (Don’t ever suggest that he buy new ones. There’s one thing you have to understand about these people. If it’s old, it has value. If it’s new, it’s suspect.)

  Cancerian emotions can be stronger than the physical body. Worry and apprehension can make him ill, and cheerfulness can make him well. Often, he fears financial collapse or the loss of someone he needs emotionally. If his security is threatened, either at the bank or in his heart, he can fall into a depression which unconsciously courts sickness or accident. His active imagination can be morbid enough to turn a minor illness into a grave or chronic one. When he gets gloomy, he responds poorly to positive statements. Then he’s apt to think you’re unkind for not sympathizing with him. But sympathy is the last thing Cancer needs when he’s sick, never mind what he says. If he grows melancholy about fearsome possibilities, he invites real trouble, and he’ll take twice as long to get well.

  The most vulnerable areas are the chest or breast region, the knees, kidneys, bladder and skin. The head and face areas are also sensitive, as are the stomach and the digestive system. Cancerians practically invented ulcers. But those who keep serene, and who call on their marvelous sense of humor to see them through their moods, can easily stay well until a ripe old age. If they get a firm grip on happiness and refuse to let go, the crabs have the power to cling to life with the same tenacity that they cling to those old newspapers and pot holders. Cheerfulness, optimism and laughter, taken daily in large doses, will keep their minds and bodies healthy. As Cancer imagines himself to feel, so shall he actually feel. No other sign is so prone to let negative thoughts bring on illness, yet no other sign can create such miracles of self-healing. It’s a strange contradiction, and it would immensely benefit all Cancerians to ponder it.

  Lots of Cancer people have very green thumbs. They produce some beautiful gardens that are tended and watered with loving care. Most of them also have very green savings accounts, which they cultivate with the same devotion. Money clings to Cancer, and they like the feel of it, so they allow it to cling. They spend frugally, to say the very least. Even with impulsive influences in the natal chart, Cancer will keep a few dry bills aside for a rainy day. If he tells you he’s broke, he means he’s down to his last few thousand. To him, that’s a desperate situation. No one is a more capable manager of funds than the crab (although Taurus, Capricorn or Virgo may run a close second). He’s an expert at accumulating cash and making it grow like the trees and flowers he plants. It will seldom dwindle in his tenacious hands or run through his shrewd fingers, and you won’t catch him tossing bundles of it out the window for the sheer joy of getting rid of it. His generosity is exceeded only by his caution. Cancerian John D. Rockefeller, Sr. probably thought he was being wickedly extravagant when he handed out all those dimes to small children; it tickled him to go on such a wild spending spree and teach economy at the same time. Still, the crab will share whatever he has willingly when someone he likes or loves is in real need. A child will never fail to move him to part with cash, but he’ll come down hard on a grocer who overcharges him two cents on a can of beans.

  Food somehow represents securit
y to Cancerians. If Old Mother Hubbard had been born in July, she would never have recovered from finding the cupboard bare. Whether he actually eats it or not, the crab feels safer when the larder is full and overflowing. Just talking about food brings a rosy glow to his expressive face, and stories of starvation will actually horrify him. Cancerians care deeply about the hungry, and they feel a responsibility toward every empty stomach in the world. (The noted mathematician-astrologer Carl Payne Tobey once pointed out that Cancerian Nelson Rockefeller campaigned in supermarkets with the political slogan, “He Cares.”) Wasting food is a crime to Cancer. You’ll get all the second helpings you want, but be sure you clean up the plate.

  There’s a strong maternal instinct in both sexes. They’re always trying to stuff hot food into you, or bundle you up against the damp, night air. Cancerians baby their friends and loved ones and hover over them protectively. It’s hard to tell which stirs the lunar emotions more deeply—children, food or money.

  The crab’s sensitive nature is covered with a hard shell, and he’s wise enough to avoid the stormy seas. Half the time he lives on dry land, the other half in deep waters. He wears the luminous, pale gold and shimmering colors of moonlight, and hides his powerful emotions behind the pale green, mauve and lavender tints of modesty.

  There’s a touch of moon madness in every Cancerian. He knows a wild and secret place where two lilies and seven white roses grow among the iris. Sometimes the memory of this faraway garden causes him to explode with laughter. Now and then it causes him to weep with sadness. Cancer patiently gathers the emeralds, pearls and moonstones carelessly dropped in the sand by others, as he waits for the tides to wash his silver dreams ashore.

  Famous Cancer Personalities

  Georgio Armani John Glenn Marcel Proust

  Mel Brooks Oscar Hammerstein II Van Rijn Rembrandt

  George W. Bush Tom Hanks John D. Rockefeller

  Julius Caesar Ernest Hemingway Richard Rodgers

  Marc Chagall King Henry VIII Ginger Rogers

  Jean Cocteau Angelica Huston Donald Rumsfeld

  Bill Cosby Helen Keller Ringo Starr

  Tom Cruise Michelle Kwan Meryl Streep

  Princess Diana of Wales Dalai Lama Henry D. Thoreau

  Steve Forbes Anne Lindbergh Robin Williams

  Gerald Ford Nelson Mandela Andrew Wyeth

  The CANCER Man

  “I sometimes dig for butter rolls.

  Or set limed twigs for crabs:

  I sometimes search the grassy knolls

  For wheels of Hansom-cabs:

  And that’s the way,” (he gave a wink)

  “By which I get my wealth—

  And very gladly will I drink

  Your Honor’s noble health.”

  A taciturn expert at circumlocution he is. A scatterbrain and a chatterbox he is not. Don’t expect this man to bare his soul when he first meets you. Cancerians never confide in strangers, and there are certain things even their best friends don’t know. It will take a long time and a fair amount of patience to really know him. If you catch him in one of his cantankerous moods, you may not be very anxious to really know him, but try again. Don’t give up so easily.

  He can be flirtatious and fickle, but he can also be sensitive and loyal. Without warning, that wrinkled frown can be replaced by a gentle smile. His crabby complaints and gruff manner can warm slowly into a tender tone, just before he breaks into a deep chuckle, a muffled giggle or loud, hysterical lunar laughter. When he’s sad and wistful, you’ll want to put your arms around him, and soothe away his melancholy. When he’s showing off his sharp, intuitive mind, you’ll stare at him in awe. His caution will impress you. His pessimism will depress you.

  He can be so courtly, courteous, and considerate, you half expect him to ask you to dance the Virginia Reel. There’s no question that he’s a romantic dreamer, yet he’s so sensible and practical, his enemies may call him “Old Marble Nose” behind his back. What do you do with a man like this?

  You try to understand him. These aren’t changes of personality. They’re simply lunar moods, moving across his consciousness, here today—gone tomorrow. Both during and between each mood, the Cancer man is true to himself. His nature never deviates from its basic mold, despite the changes of expression that play on his features. Always try to remember that although a Cancerian’s manner can be rough and aloof, his heart is always soft and affectionate, and so full of sentiment it often makes him feel too vulnerable. Then he crawls into his convenient shell (the one he carries with him at all times), safe for a while from his own emotions. You’ll think he’s a real crab and give up when he retreats into injured silence. But the next time he cautiously peeks out to see the sunshine, you’ll be tempted all over again to get close to him. Unfortunately, a Cancer male can be a regular wet dishrag now and then, disparaging everything and everybody, and splashing gloom in big, blue drops all over your ego. Yet, at other times he can be as funny as an orangutan with the hiccups. No wonder you don’t know whether to give him a cold shoulder or a warm hug. The temperature changes of a Cancerian could puzzle anyone. First you shiver under his freezing glances, then you get smothered with devotion. His moods are the meanest when he’s the most afraid of losing something. Maybe it’s you. Reassure him you’re his a thousand and one times. Words of love are music to his ears.

  Of course, he may wade into one of his loony spells right in the middle of a tender scene some night under a full moon. Just when you’re drifting away on lovely dreams, he may offer to tell you his favorite poem. You’ll sigh, lean back on his shoulder and close your eyes. Then he’ll cackle something like, “The stag at Eve had drunk his fill—where danced the Moon on Monan’s rill. He blew his nose and shined his shoes—and took a swig of Mountain booze!” It may jolt you out of your magic spell, but that full moon can do strange things to the lunar emotions. What I mean is, he can be as nutty as a cuckoo, even if he is smart enough to make a million dollars and keep it.

  I’m glad we brought up money. You will be too. If you’re the kind of gal who likes to pay the rent on time, you’re in love with exactly the right man. He’s almost as fond of security as he is of you. You may have a slight edge, but you can safely consider money your worst rival. He’s going to pursue it with dedication and a sort of quiet, religious fervor for most of his days. (The nights may bring other things to pursue.) It’s not the worst fate you could experience. Finances have fascinated him since childhood, and saving will be substantially more attractive to him than spending. He’s not exactly stingy, but let’s say it’s not likely you’ll ever see him lighting his pipe with a dollar bill for a parlor trick. The Cancerian sense of humor seldom takes in the topic of cold, hard cash. Money is not a laughing matter to the crab. He could probably add a column of figures in his head before he learned the alphabet, and had a paper route when he was eleven. Don’t be surprised if you find he still has his first piggy bank, unopened. The tinkle of silver and the rustle of folding green paper soothe his nerves, but he won’t brag about his Dun and Bradstreet rating. Cancerians seldom collect cash for status. They collect it for its own sweet sake. In fact, he will probably belittle his financial wizardry. He’s “just a poor boy, trying to earn a living, and getting along the best he can.” You may even feel so sorry for him, you’ll offer to get him a loan at the bank. Don’t. He probably owns part of it.

  A fire sign on the ascendant may give him a rare extravagant urge, which he’ll resist with admirable courage. Even if he gives in to an occasional spending spree to cheer himself out of a blue mood, it won’t become a habit. Before you start mumbling “tightwad” under your breath, you should know that the Cancer man has an interesting idea of economy. He’d rather take you out to the best restaurant, and get what he pays for, than risk offending his sensitive tastes with over-cooked lamb chops and indifferent service in a second-rate place. He thinks it’s silly to waste money on an imitation Rolex when a real one will amortize itself over the years. A good, conservative Lexus
or Cadillac is a safer investment, in his opinion, than a cheap car that depreciates as soon as you drive it around the corner. Quality and thrift are synonymous to the Cancerian. There, I thought that would bring the sparkle back to your eyes!

  Even the most poetic and dreamy Cancerians, who spend their lives immersed in music, art or other cultural pursuits, have a shrewd sense of the value of cash. A lunar artist may paint in an attic, but you needn’t send him any Care packages. There are probably some stocks and bonds hidden in the rafters. He won’t donate his paintings, either. He’ll sell them for a pretty price, if he’s a professional. But they’ll be worth it. When a Cancer person tackles a career, he’s sure to be at the top of it. He’s loaded with artistic talent. You might suggest that your Cancer man design your Christmas cards. They’re sure to be lovely, even if he’s only an amateur.

  If he’s a true Cancerian, he won’t be wild about sports clothes. There’s a certain formality about his toilet. Whether he’s worth billions or only a few paltry thousands, he likes conservative cuts and good tailoring. He often leans to collar buttons (yes, they still sell them—to Cancerians), French cuffs and expensive shirts he gets wholesale, usually without monograms (too showy; he prefers to be inconspicuous). Even when he’s short of cash for a brief period while he’s working on his first million, his shoes will be polished and his socks will stay up. During any shaky financial period (and it will be temporary), a Cancer male will somehow exude an air of genteel rich, or one who has known better days. If he hasn’t, he will. Fairly substantial amounts of money will someday come to this man, or he’ll be given the opportunity to earn large sums of it. He won’t always be wealthy, but a Cancerian in the unemployment line is as rare as a pineapple tree in Siberia. His secret motto is that “all play and no work gives Jack a skinny billfold,” and he prefers his wallets pleasingly plump.