It has years since I wrote in this blog. I had been thinking about writing this for some time but couldn't find the courage, maybe, to pursue the subject I had in mind.
On February 27, 2012, my brother Ron, a year younger than I, called me to wish me a Happy Birthday. During the conversation he admitted to being discouraged, something he never mentioned in previous phone calls. We continued talking for awhile and then we ended the conversation. I appreciated his birthday wish but didn't expect it to be my last conversation with him. Ron and I were rather close although we were 400 miles apart. I would call him up more than he called me though.
On February 29 I got a phone call from his son-in-law Duane who informed me that Ron was missing. Missing? He was not the type to just disappear. He was a responsible person, nice job, married, two daughters, six grandchildren. What is happening?
The conversation continued as he talked to my wife Lucy. I called my sister Jane on my cell phone to clue her in on it and she listened to the conversation when I held the phone up to the phone I was using to talk to Duane. Then there was mention of suicide. I asked him why he thinks it could be suicide. "There are signs," was all he said.
Now I'm an emotional guy sometimes (occasional anxiety) and lately I had been a bit of a nervous wreck from some unrelated happenings that were attempting to impress its influence upon me. But that got resolved and now I had this incident to think about. Depression runs in the family but there are ways to deal with it so all is under control--but this?
Ron and I grew up together, 16 months apart in age. When I was five and he was four Mom was in a family way and we were told that we were going to have a baby brother or sister. We chose to have a brother; we implored the Almighty for a brother. We already had two sisters. I was a little disappointed when they came from Babyland with a little sister. Even at five years old I was thinking that my parents should have waited until there was a brother available to bring home. I did not react like Gunner, but it is uncanny that Ron looked almost like this boy at that age.
We went through five sisters before a brother came along seven years later.
March 1st Lucy and I went to get our taxes done and I was on pins and needles, wondering if Ron would be found. While our taxes were being done by AARP, I finally got word that Ron was found. They had been looking for him in a wooded area the day before but abandoned the search because of heavy rain, but now, today, they found him, not far from where he had left his company truck. He had left a note. At the news my mind went numb. There was nothing we could do at this point. He in Pennsylvania, I in Ohio.
That evening I was sitting in my easy chair half asleep, half awake, and I heard his voice as if he was walking by; getting louder as he passed by and fading as he continued on. I didn't hear what he was saying but the voice was distinctive enough to sound like him. I felt a little better that there was a communication of sorts between us; one way anyway; from wherever he was.
Thursday, June 22, 2017
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Pay It Forward
We had some snow on the ground on Christmas Day but the real snowstorm came the next day. I had to go to the Clinic in Mansfield to get my blood drawn for Ohio State University Hospital in Columbus, the monthly tests for the kidney transplant I had received in April 2010. It snowed so fast I wondered if I could get back up the lane when I returned.
It was a 20-mile round-trip. Traffic came to a crawl at places and some cars were sliding all over the place. I drove as carefully as I could and spun a little up the lane as I finally got to my parking space. I was not enthusiastic about trying to find a person to snowplow the lane; we’re on an economic budget crunch like a lot of other people.
The next morning I went out and started shoveling five or six inches of snow off the deck and the pavement. I took a shovel down to the mailbox by the road and started shoveling there to let the mailman get to the mailbox. I marked off a section that I wanted to shovel away.
I called a friend to see if he was plowing snow this year . . . he wasn’t. Several pickups with snowplows come down the road. It gave me an idea.
Soon a vehicle with a snowplow came up the road and, on an impulse, I flagged him down. I asked him if he was plowing snow around here. How much he charged for plowing. He didn’t say anything so I said, “It doesn’t matter.” I was just glad if someone could plow our lane. He saw what I had marked off and offered to finish it. He then noticed the lane wasn’t plowed and offered to do that too.
The lane has a curve in it and the layout wasn’t obvious at places. He told me to get into the truck to direct him where he should go. He took my shovel and put it into his truck.
He plowed up to the house and then I directed him around to the back of the house where there is another parking space. Then he offered to plow the parking space where my van was parked right by the house. I moved my Dodge Grand Caravan SXT and he plowed the space which is big enough for two vehicles.
I got out of my van and headed toward the house to get my checkbook. He called out, asking if I needed anything else done.
I replied, “No, but I want to give you a check.”
He answered by saying, “Merry Christmas . . . Happy New Year,” and took off. I never even found out his name.
Well, he and I had forgotten that he still had my snow shovel in the truck but I reasoned that it was a small token of payment for his generosity. But I had a feeling that I would see that snow shovel again.
Since we were not snowbound anymore Lucy said there was the meal at the Senior Center in town, and they could be serving right now. I could get a meal and bring one back for her, and she gave me a container. She also gave me a larger container of fresh-baked cookies to give to them.
When I arrived there, I found out from Mary, who was in charge, that there would be no meal since whoever caters it had a problem—probably weather related—and was closed. They hadn’t gotten anything from the bakery either. (They play Bingo and other games so there were people there for those activities.)
I gave her the cookies and said she can give the container back on Monday. We have meals there twice a week. Subway has some nice sandwiches and I bought a foot-long Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki sandwich for $5 to take home (or was it 11 inches?--I didn't check). I did not want to go home empty-handed.
I parked the van in the newly plowed parking space and then noticed as I walked toward the house that the shovel was back on the deck.
Before we devoured the sandwich, I prayed a special prayer for blessing on the man who so generously gave us assistance.
Now to pay it forward someday, somewhere, somehow.
It was a 20-mile round-trip. Traffic came to a crawl at places and some cars were sliding all over the place. I drove as carefully as I could and spun a little up the lane as I finally got to my parking space. I was not enthusiastic about trying to find a person to snowplow the lane; we’re on an economic budget crunch like a lot of other people.
The next morning I went out and started shoveling five or six inches of snow off the deck and the pavement. I took a shovel down to the mailbox by the road and started shoveling there to let the mailman get to the mailbox. I marked off a section that I wanted to shovel away.
I called a friend to see if he was plowing snow this year . . . he wasn’t. Several pickups with snowplows come down the road. It gave me an idea.
Soon a vehicle with a snowplow came up the road and, on an impulse, I flagged him down. I asked him if he was plowing snow around here. How much he charged for plowing. He didn’t say anything so I said, “It doesn’t matter.” I was just glad if someone could plow our lane. He saw what I had marked off and offered to finish it. He then noticed the lane wasn’t plowed and offered to do that too.
The lane has a curve in it and the layout wasn’t obvious at places. He told me to get into the truck to direct him where he should go. He took my shovel and put it into his truck.
He plowed up to the house and then I directed him around to the back of the house where there is another parking space. Then he offered to plow the parking space where my van was parked right by the house. I moved my Dodge Grand Caravan SXT and he plowed the space which is big enough for two vehicles.
Lucy took this picture as he was clearing my parking space.
I got out of my van and headed toward the house to get my checkbook. He called out, asking if I needed anything else done.
I replied, “No, but I want to give you a check.”
He answered by saying, “Merry Christmas . . . Happy New Year,” and took off. I never even found out his name.
Well, he and I had forgotten that he still had my snow shovel in the truck but I reasoned that it was a small token of payment for his generosity. But I had a feeling that I would see that snow shovel again.
Since we were not snowbound anymore Lucy said there was the meal at the Senior Center in town, and they could be serving right now. I could get a meal and bring one back for her, and she gave me a container. She also gave me a larger container of fresh-baked cookies to give to them.
When I arrived there, I found out from Mary, who was in charge, that there would be no meal since whoever caters it had a problem—probably weather related—and was closed. They hadn’t gotten anything from the bakery either. (They play Bingo and other games so there were people there for those activities.)
I gave her the cookies and said she can give the container back on Monday. We have meals there twice a week. Subway has some nice sandwiches and I bought a foot-long Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki sandwich for $5 to take home (or was it 11 inches?--I didn't check). I did not want to go home empty-handed.
I parked the van in the newly plowed parking space and then noticed as I walked toward the house that the shovel was back on the deck.
Before we devoured the sandwich, I prayed a special prayer for blessing on the man who so generously gave us assistance.
Now to pay it forward someday, somewhere, somehow.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Bullying problem needs to be addressed
This is the fourth Opinion Shaper article, published on July 22, 2012, in the Mansfield News Journal, Mansfield, Ohio.
You can stop the harrassment.
The recent incident in which Karen Klein was bullied by a group of boys in New York brought back memories of my high school days. I did not fit in with others because of my own special needs and insecurities, and those were a sure target for anyone who wanted to pick on someone.
Bullies pick on those who look like they can be taken advantage of. Three or four classmates chose to pick on me at times and it made me feel confused, angry, and almost frantic.
Years later on a wintry day I was driving home, only to become stuck in the snow in our driveway. A former classmate came along on a snowmobile, with his small son on his lap. He was one of those bullies I had occasionally encountered in high school. Only a few years after high school, I can only assume he remembered me as a classmate. Not much was said but he graciously helped me out.
I was happy for the assistance but suddenly I felt largely forgotten feelings of rage cropping up in my memory and at first it took an effort to keep from initiating some kind of attack mode. Reason prevailed and I quickly quelled those feelings, realizing that our perceptions change, past memories grow dim, and any past childish pranks may be but a dim memory, or forgotten completely. I immediately forgave the past to allow common sense to put me back on a more reasonable emotional track. (You don’t need to wait for someone to ask for forgiveness.)
A friend of mine who had severe medical issues during her school years told me she met a gentleman decades later who had been one of those bullies, and confronted him. His reaction was that he was at a loss on how to answer the charges. Here they were over 50 years old and she was rehashing past memories of events during the formative years when kids make all kinds of mistakes while growing up—teenagers especially are prone to test the struggles between childhood and growing independence.
Adults can often forget those times because they are in another phase of life. “…when I became a man I put away childish things.”
Bullying has always been around, ever since Cain and Abel had their differences. But what role models do young people have? Teen movies today exhibit such behavior, children see their parents fighting, siblings get into fights, anyone who is different is subject to ridicule; racial hatred, homophobia, disrespect for culture, envying one’s lifestyle, the proliferation of violent computer games, police brutality, and children who are bullied and/or abused can turn into bullies themselves.
One incident on YouTube shows a father beating his son with a belt for not catching a ball correctly during a father/son back yard practice—an example of parents excessively pushing their sons or daughters into activities that supposedly mirror their own successes or failures in life.
The religious community is not scot free from blame either. Certain church groups teach hatred for alternate lifestyles, anyone who is different in race, creed, or culture. Theodore Roosevelt coined the term “bully pulpit” to describe his presidential influence he had to promote his agenda. Today, with a slight change in etymology, the term fits the tirades heard over church pulpits that spout forth hatred and disdain for others.
So, is bullying going to stop? For some people, yes; bullying at large, hardly. There are several methods to stop it. Guide a child to be more confident. Take an interest in martial arts—the kind that teach confidence, honor and respectability in self defense. A little interaction in a bullying situation can stop it in its tracks. Or why not institute a grade school course to teach respect for others!
Karen Klein’s experience at the hands of abusive youngsters was an eye-opener since it was shown to the world. She is to be commended for enduring such abuse. When it becomes extremely personal, it often renders one powerless. Fortunately she had positive public opinion to her benefit. Any combative reaction on her part would have changed the picture entirely.
It seems that school officials have a tendency to mishandle bullying situations, especially when the victim fights back. School is the place where bullying is apt to present itself because of the presence of so many children together who only follow their own instincts of behavior.
The place to really address the bullying question is in family cohesiveness, but that is like stopping a train. You may teach a child how to handle himself and get results but you have grown people who need to also alter their behavior, and that can be almost impossible; old habits die hard.
Respect, tolerance, understanding, compassion, forgiveness. As Rodney King said in 1992 during the violent Los Angeles race riots, “Can we all get along?”
You can stop the harrassment.
The recent incident in which Karen Klein was bullied by a group of boys in New York brought back memories of my high school days. I did not fit in with others because of my own special needs and insecurities, and those were a sure target for anyone who wanted to pick on someone.
Bullies pick on those who look like they can be taken advantage of. Three or four classmates chose to pick on me at times and it made me feel confused, angry, and almost frantic.
Years later on a wintry day I was driving home, only to become stuck in the snow in our driveway. A former classmate came along on a snowmobile, with his small son on his lap. He was one of those bullies I had occasionally encountered in high school. Only a few years after high school, I can only assume he remembered me as a classmate. Not much was said but he graciously helped me out.
I was happy for the assistance but suddenly I felt largely forgotten feelings of rage cropping up in my memory and at first it took an effort to keep from initiating some kind of attack mode. Reason prevailed and I quickly quelled those feelings, realizing that our perceptions change, past memories grow dim, and any past childish pranks may be but a dim memory, or forgotten completely. I immediately forgave the past to allow common sense to put me back on a more reasonable emotional track. (You don’t need to wait for someone to ask for forgiveness.)
A friend of mine who had severe medical issues during her school years told me she met a gentleman decades later who had been one of those bullies, and confronted him. His reaction was that he was at a loss on how to answer the charges. Here they were over 50 years old and she was rehashing past memories of events during the formative years when kids make all kinds of mistakes while growing up—teenagers especially are prone to test the struggles between childhood and growing independence.
Adults can often forget those times because they are in another phase of life. “…when I became a man I put away childish things.”
Bullying has always been around, ever since Cain and Abel had their differences. But what role models do young people have? Teen movies today exhibit such behavior, children see their parents fighting, siblings get into fights, anyone who is different is subject to ridicule; racial hatred, homophobia, disrespect for culture, envying one’s lifestyle, the proliferation of violent computer games, police brutality, and children who are bullied and/or abused can turn into bullies themselves.
One incident on YouTube shows a father beating his son with a belt for not catching a ball correctly during a father/son back yard practice—an example of parents excessively pushing their sons or daughters into activities that supposedly mirror their own successes or failures in life.
The religious community is not scot free from blame either. Certain church groups teach hatred for alternate lifestyles, anyone who is different in race, creed, or culture. Theodore Roosevelt coined the term “bully pulpit” to describe his presidential influence he had to promote his agenda. Today, with a slight change in etymology, the term fits the tirades heard over church pulpits that spout forth hatred and disdain for others.
So, is bullying going to stop? For some people, yes; bullying at large, hardly. There are several methods to stop it. Guide a child to be more confident. Take an interest in martial arts—the kind that teach confidence, honor and respectability in self defense. A little interaction in a bullying situation can stop it in its tracks. Or why not institute a grade school course to teach respect for others!
Karen Klein’s experience at the hands of abusive youngsters was an eye-opener since it was shown to the world. She is to be commended for enduring such abuse. When it becomes extremely personal, it often renders one powerless. Fortunately she had positive public opinion to her benefit. Any combative reaction on her part would have changed the picture entirely.
It seems that school officials have a tendency to mishandle bullying situations, especially when the victim fights back. School is the place where bullying is apt to present itself because of the presence of so many children together who only follow their own instincts of behavior.
The place to really address the bullying question is in family cohesiveness, but that is like stopping a train. You may teach a child how to handle himself and get results but you have grown people who need to also alter their behavior, and that can be almost impossible; old habits die hard.
Respect, tolerance, understanding, compassion, forgiveness. As Rodney King said in 1992 during the violent Los Angeles race riots, “Can we all get along?”
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
A lesson in sync
Meanwhile, Nathan and Nolan were down by the water, skipping stones, and was oblivious of it all. I had the idea, or premonition, that whatever they had lost would be found but was sure it would not be found by me, although I looked around a little where I was. I had no idea what he was looking for.
Finally I called the boys to come along, we’re going home. Lucy then noticed that the man and boy were getting into his car on the other side of the park. When Nathan and Nolan sat down in the van, Nathan remarked that he found an MP3 player and was happy about his find. Lucy remarked that maybe it is what the man was looking for. Nathan gave a sigh of disappointment.
We noticed that the car was leaving and I quickly drove up a side road to the main road. If he turned right I would try to intercept him; if left, I’d follow him. He turned left and I followed until, for some reason, the car stopped by the road. I pulled up behind it.
Nathan got out of the van and the teenager got out of the car. Holding up the unit, Nathan asked him if this is what he was looking for. The boy said yes and took it, and went back into the car. A few seconds later he got out again and called out “THANK YOU”. We pulled out again and the driver of the car called out THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
Is it any wonder that we can be thankful for such an incident that gives us a lesson in a dynamic that can only be attributed to something beyond ourselves! We may have the insight to grasp a working situation but it is what is within ourselves that can choreograph an event to a meaningful and happy conclusion.
We can take it as a lesson. That's what we are here for—to learn lessons. As many say, there are no coincidences.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Life is how you choose to live it
This is the third Opinion Shaper article, published on April 15, 2012, in the Mansfield News Journal, Mansfield, Ohio. It was right after my dear brother passed away.
There certainly is something in the air that doesn't agree with everybody. There is an ongoing feud with the economy, politics, education, finances, religion—in short, the quality of life.
My brother, Ronald, recently let uncertainties of life finally get to him. He called me on Feb. 27 to wish me a happy birthday. We had a cordial conversation, but three days later he was gone, a victim of his own discouragement.
He had admitted to being very discouraged but he wouldn't, or couldn't, lay a finger on the cause. We mentioned retirement, touched on the state of the economy, and, worst of all, the political scene. He was close to retirement age, still in good health and working, and had a lovely wife, two beautiful daughters and six grandchildren.
So, where does that leave the rest of us? We are concerned about the same things. The economy is trying to get onto its feet, and politicians are trying to prove some kind of aristocratic ardor; vying for the top seat in government; trying to appeal to the masses, which is mainly how one of them will manage to get there—or stay there.
Then there are religious and societal differences that figure into the mix. Catholics, Protestants, other religions, atheists, races, creeds, lifestyles. In a free society that should not be a problem—to each his own—but there seems to be the curious need to watch each other and make a judgment about the different ways of viewing the world.
There is an ongoing need for happiness and contentment—song, dance, sports, religion. That's on the right track, but then there are drugs, sex, alcohol, tobacco and excesses of all kinds. It all plays a part in giving a sample of temporary happiness, at the risk of one's own eventual downfall. But that's when one is focusing full attention on it.
There is another focus that can help alleviate the discontent or madness in one's existence, which can last longer; paying attention to that which was already set up for countless ages—the beauty of what you see around you. It's there when you look for it. It's there just by being, without judgment of its own.
You can withdraw inward for a few minutes a day and quiet your mind and contemplate on the exquisiteness of a flower, a tree, even grass. Let your mind focus on the unseen microscopic world. Somewhere in that orderly mass of cells, molecules and atoms is the essence of life that keeps it all growing and flourishing, a mode of intellectual pursuit even at that level to complete the cycle of life, assisted by DNA patterns, and evolving according to the environment in which it finds itself.
Then there is the magnificent thought in watching the stars and planets take their steady course through the heavens. If you have an active imagination, you can allow yourself to soar among them, oblivious to what is around you for the moment, taking a little time to relax in that feeling of wonder.
Or you can consider the birds, animals and insects with a sense of awe as you realize that each species is different. You can also adopt some of their characteristics for yourself—strength, courage, patience—which can help you give order to your own existence. It's just taking lessons from that which has a divine order about it.
Then there is the joy of doing what you love—reading, writing, expressing yourself in art and music, helping one another in time of need, enjoying the kind of life that can be shared and enjoyed by all.
A universal law is in place: what you give out will eventually return to you. It's called the Law of Attraction, which is beyond the realm of philosophy or religion. It affects everyone, regardless. On a personal level it has to do with the ethic if reciprocity, the Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It can work the same way on a much broader scale. Somewhere along the way wars must cease if there is to be world peace. Governments must pay attention to the governed in positive ways. It can start with you, a single source as an example of encouragement and appreciation for those around you, an influence for good as a role model for others.
Love for our fellow humanity will go far, which includes respect, tolerance, self-control, forgiveness. It also includes a love and respect for the Source of life, however one knows, believes or imagines it. This applies to everyone--everyone!
When you are finished quietly contemplating the natural order of things that has existed for millennia and beyond, you can return to your conditioned life's programming with a refreshed outlook of being able to help make some kind of order out of the chaos that made you seek the solace of withdrawing inward in the first place. You can call it prayer or meditation or just relaxing. Inspiration comes to a quiet mind.
There certainly is something in the air that doesn't agree with everybody. There is an ongoing feud with the economy, politics, education, finances, religion—in short, the quality of life.
My brother, Ronald, recently let uncertainties of life finally get to him. He called me on Feb. 27 to wish me a happy birthday. We had a cordial conversation, but three days later he was gone, a victim of his own discouragement.
He had admitted to being very discouraged but he wouldn't, or couldn't, lay a finger on the cause. We mentioned retirement, touched on the state of the economy, and, worst of all, the political scene. He was close to retirement age, still in good health and working, and had a lovely wife, two beautiful daughters and six grandchildren.
So, where does that leave the rest of us? We are concerned about the same things. The economy is trying to get onto its feet, and politicians are trying to prove some kind of aristocratic ardor; vying for the top seat in government; trying to appeal to the masses, which is mainly how one of them will manage to get there—or stay there.
Then there are religious and societal differences that figure into the mix. Catholics, Protestants, other religions, atheists, races, creeds, lifestyles. In a free society that should not be a problem—to each his own—but there seems to be the curious need to watch each other and make a judgment about the different ways of viewing the world.
There is an ongoing need for happiness and contentment—song, dance, sports, religion. That's on the right track, but then there are drugs, sex, alcohol, tobacco and excesses of all kinds. It all plays a part in giving a sample of temporary happiness, at the risk of one's own eventual downfall. But that's when one is focusing full attention on it.
There is another focus that can help alleviate the discontent or madness in one's existence, which can last longer; paying attention to that which was already set up for countless ages—the beauty of what you see around you. It's there when you look for it. It's there just by being, without judgment of its own.
You can withdraw inward for a few minutes a day and quiet your mind and contemplate on the exquisiteness of a flower, a tree, even grass. Let your mind focus on the unseen microscopic world. Somewhere in that orderly mass of cells, molecules and atoms is the essence of life that keeps it all growing and flourishing, a mode of intellectual pursuit even at that level to complete the cycle of life, assisted by DNA patterns, and evolving according to the environment in which it finds itself.
Then there is the magnificent thought in watching the stars and planets take their steady course through the heavens. If you have an active imagination, you can allow yourself to soar among them, oblivious to what is around you for the moment, taking a little time to relax in that feeling of wonder.
Or you can consider the birds, animals and insects with a sense of awe as you realize that each species is different. You can also adopt some of their characteristics for yourself—strength, courage, patience—which can help you give order to your own existence. It's just taking lessons from that which has a divine order about it.
Then there is the joy of doing what you love—reading, writing, expressing yourself in art and music, helping one another in time of need, enjoying the kind of life that can be shared and enjoyed by all.
A universal law is in place: what you give out will eventually return to you. It's called the Law of Attraction, which is beyond the realm of philosophy or religion. It affects everyone, regardless. On a personal level it has to do with the ethic if reciprocity, the Golden Rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It can work the same way on a much broader scale. Somewhere along the way wars must cease if there is to be world peace. Governments must pay attention to the governed in positive ways. It can start with you, a single source as an example of encouragement and appreciation for those around you, an influence for good as a role model for others.
Love for our fellow humanity will go far, which includes respect, tolerance, self-control, forgiveness. It also includes a love and respect for the Source of life, however one knows, believes or imagines it. This applies to everyone--everyone!
When you are finished quietly contemplating the natural order of things that has existed for millennia and beyond, you can return to your conditioned life's programming with a refreshed outlook of being able to help make some kind of order out of the chaos that made you seek the solace of withdrawing inward in the first place. You can call it prayer or meditation or just relaxing. Inspiration comes to a quiet mind.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Scamming the scammers is a hassle
This article is my first attempt at writing for publication in the local newspaper as a guest columnist. It was published in the October 15, 2011 Mansfield News Journal, Mansfield, OH as an Opinion Shaper article. The Opinion Shaper team consisted of 13 volunteers who each submitted an article for publication every three months for one year.
It's not often you get a phone call saying you have won a large sum of money, but for many people it is all too often, with regrettable results.
Recently I got: such a call, and a female voice congratulated me for winning $3 million. I asked what I should do next, and the reply was to send $750 for the cost of expediting the delivery. I told her to just deduct the $750 and send me the rest. She said, "OK," and hung up. I didn't hear from her again.
During the next two weeks, I received several similar calls from different people. One was from a David Foster who informed me that he was from (a well-known company) and that I won $1.5 million and a Mercedes Benz.
"How do you like that?" he added. I told him it would be OK if I had the check in my hand or, better yet, the money in the bank, He agreed, but told me that all I had to do was send him $100 to defray expenses of the delivery.
I had already researched some of the scam methods and I told him that we should not have to pay anything for a sweepstakes win. He replied that the rules have changed and explained a few points.
"Will you cooperate?"
"No," I replied, and hung up.
I called security at that company and they informed me that they do not contact a winner by phone.
But there was one call I was curious enough to follow through. The call came from a John Anderson, and he informed me that I won $5 million and congratulated me, saying that I definitely did win and that I would receive the money. All I would have to do was send them $385 to cover expenses. This time I played along, but I told him I didn't have that kind of money. He then asked me if I had any bank credit cards and, since it was not exactly personal information, I replied that I had MasterCard and Visa. He asked what the credit limit was on the cards and I replied, "$12,000 on one of them." He said he would send me a check for $12,000 and I could pay the $385 out of that, and he admonished me to "spend the money wisely."
The next day I got a phone call from another man with a heavy accent who asked me if I got the check yet. I told him it was only a day later—mail doesn't travel that fast. He said he would call the next day.
The next day or so he called again, still no check. He suggested I could pay the $385 out of my credit card, or take a loan out using my car as collateral. I told him I don't do things that way. Another call asked what bank I used. To maintain the sense of innocent participation I told him the name of a bank - but not my bank.
A few days later I got a call again, and again I told him I did not receive a check. He then told me he would send it, what is my address? This time I waived the admonition to not give out personal information. I gave him my address; I wanted the evidence.
Meanwhile, I called the Mansfield Police Department and talked to one of the detectives who gave me the 411 on the numerous scam attempts and successes that pervade our society.
A couple days later I got the check, dated and signed by the name printed on the check, made out to my name, but the rest was blank.
When the caller called again I informed him that the amount on the check was blank. He told me that they did not yet know how much the government would charge for the transaction so they left it blank - he would let me know the amount. He told me to deposit the check for $9,500. That was where it became really confusing and I don't remember what he said next, except he did end with, "Are you going to the bank now?" I told him I was working on it.
I was not going to cash or deposit any check of that sort. The lesson I got from the police department was that the check may be cashable, but the check funds can get shanghaied to who knows where, and the money you received will have to be given back to the bank, which will not have sympathy for your situation.
I took the check to the police, along with pertinent information. In this case, the check was proved to be a fraud early on. The checking account had been closed, the owner of the account had died and his wife was in a nursing home. I got a phone call a couple weeks later that was apparently from the same source. I replied that the check was a fraud and hung up.
It was a hassle to follow through with what I knew was a fraud, and it gave me a few headaches. I got my evidence, but it was filed with the police department among thousands of other similar attempted, or successful fraud cases.
Incidentally, my phone number is on the National Do Not Call Registry. Why am I still getting unwanted calls?
It's not often you get a phone call saying you have won a large sum of money, but for many people it is all too often, with regrettable results.
Recently I got: such a call, and a female voice congratulated me for winning $3 million. I asked what I should do next, and the reply was to send $750 for the cost of expediting the delivery. I told her to just deduct the $750 and send me the rest. She said, "OK," and hung up. I didn't hear from her again.
During the next two weeks, I received several similar calls from different people. One was from a David Foster who informed me that he was from (a well-known company) and that I won $1.5 million and a Mercedes Benz.
"How do you like that?" he added. I told him it would be OK if I had the check in my hand or, better yet, the money in the bank, He agreed, but told me that all I had to do was send him $100 to defray expenses of the delivery.
I had already researched some of the scam methods and I told him that we should not have to pay anything for a sweepstakes win. He replied that the rules have changed and explained a few points.
"Will you cooperate?"
"No," I replied, and hung up.
I called security at that company and they informed me that they do not contact a winner by phone.
But there was one call I was curious enough to follow through. The call came from a John Anderson, and he informed me that I won $5 million and congratulated me, saying that I definitely did win and that I would receive the money. All I would have to do was send them $385 to cover expenses. This time I played along, but I told him I didn't have that kind of money. He then asked me if I had any bank credit cards and, since it was not exactly personal information, I replied that I had MasterCard and Visa. He asked what the credit limit was on the cards and I replied, "$12,000 on one of them." He said he would send me a check for $12,000 and I could pay the $385 out of that, and he admonished me to "spend the money wisely."
The next day I got a phone call from another man with a heavy accent who asked me if I got the check yet. I told him it was only a day later—mail doesn't travel that fast. He said he would call the next day.
The next day or so he called again, still no check. He suggested I could pay the $385 out of my credit card, or take a loan out using my car as collateral. I told him I don't do things that way. Another call asked what bank I used. To maintain the sense of innocent participation I told him the name of a bank - but not my bank.
A few days later I got a call again, and again I told him I did not receive a check. He then told me he would send it, what is my address? This time I waived the admonition to not give out personal information. I gave him my address; I wanted the evidence.
Meanwhile, I called the Mansfield Police Department and talked to one of the detectives who gave me the 411 on the numerous scam attempts and successes that pervade our society.
A couple days later I got the check, dated and signed by the name printed on the check, made out to my name, but the rest was blank.
When the caller called again I informed him that the amount on the check was blank. He told me that they did not yet know how much the government would charge for the transaction so they left it blank - he would let me know the amount. He told me to deposit the check for $9,500. That was where it became really confusing and I don't remember what he said next, except he did end with, "Are you going to the bank now?" I told him I was working on it.
I was not going to cash or deposit any check of that sort. The lesson I got from the police department was that the check may be cashable, but the check funds can get shanghaied to who knows where, and the money you received will have to be given back to the bank, which will not have sympathy for your situation.
I took the check to the police, along with pertinent information. In this case, the check was proved to be a fraud early on. The checking account had been closed, the owner of the account had died and his wife was in a nursing home. I got a phone call a couple weeks later that was apparently from the same source. I replied that the check was a fraud and hung up.
It was a hassle to follow through with what I knew was a fraud, and it gave me a few headaches. I got my evidence, but it was filed with the police department among thousands of other similar attempted, or successful fraud cases.
Incidentally, my phone number is on the National Do Not Call Registry. Why am I still getting unwanted calls?
Monday, January 30, 2012
Food for thought . . .
This article was the second volunteer article, published in the January 15, 2012 Mansfield News Journal, Mansfield, OH as an Opinion Shaper article.
FOOD CAN BE FRESH OFF THE FARM . . . OR NOT
Although I lived on a farm, I still had a job—at the time working for the USDA as a poultry inspector. I came home from work one day and, on impulse, stopped by a grocery store and bought a nicely marbled steak which I prepared for dinner. I picked a vine-ripened tomato from the garden and a couple of ears of corn and anticipated a nice little feast.
The steak would be tender because of the marbling of fat and the tomato would taste sweet because it was vine ripened, and the corn would taste fresh because I had just pulled the ears off the stalks.
I slathered a thin layer of mustard on the steak for added flavor and put it under the oven broiler for a few minutes each side. The tomatoes were sliced and seasoned a little, and the corn was husked and boiled to doneness and coated with butter and a sprinkling of salt.
I could easily cut the steak with a fork. The tomatoes tasted good on a slice of bread that was spread with a thin layer of salad dressing (my preference). The corn had been picked at the right time, so it was tender and flavorful. It all tasted like heaven.
There is a value to living on a farm where everything is fresh. I happened to live on a chicken farm at the time where fresh eggs were in abundance.
Living on a farm means working daily at the chores of feeding the livestock, gathering eggs, milking cows, fixing up anything broken, plowing up the ground in the spring and buying seed for crops, weeding the garden every few days for so, watering the plants during a dry spell, and making sure animals like rabbits, groundhogs or birds, don’t raid the garden or the fields.
There is a sense of freshness in the air, much of the time. Other scents may pervade the atmosphere when the animal pens are cleaned out. There are pros and cons all over the place, but one gets used to it when one is addicted to country living.
It has to be mentioned that this is where all your food comes from, whether it be a small farm or a huge conglomerate which is in dairy, meat and crop production. Those packages of beef, pork, veal, lamb, chicken, turkey, fresh sausage, smoked sausage, and the delicious rotisserie chicken that some grocery stores prepare—they all come from a farm.
Then you have apples, pears, peaches, cherries—and in warmer climates oranges, lemons, bananas; the list goes on.
My Dad was a great gardener. We moved from farm to farm over the years, and at each farm he laid out a garden to grow lettuce, peas, sweet corn, tomatoes, carrots, celery, lima beans, string beans, bush beans, pole beans, cabbage, red beets, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cucumbers, cantaloupe, squash, muskmelon, watermelon, and ground cherries. He was careful to properly enrich the soil, and spent time hoeing out the weeds—and we kids were involved in that too.
But when the agricultural industry gets larger to feed millions of people, and to deliver to the far corners of the worldwide marketplace, there are other factors that weigh in with the growing, processing, and marketing of food.
For sales appeal, food has to be kept fresh and safe, and look good to the discriminating eye and appetite. In addition, there is canned, frozen and dried food which maintains longevity.
Trying to keep it fresh can be tricky when food is handled by the ton and truckload. There are ways to maintain quality, but it may include inventiveness on the part of the mega businesses, especially when food has to travel thousands of miles.
There are a lot of people involved in getting food to your table who plow the soil, put down fertilizer, plant seed, cultivate, irrigate, harvest (which may include migrant workers), prepare the food for transport to factories or markets, package, determine the price and advertise. And when food goes to a factory for canning, freezing, and processing, there is a whole new dynamic involved in the process.
Processing food involves the use of additional ingredients to give it the proper color, proper consistency, proper taste and nutrition. When food is heated, for example, it can lose a lot of its nutritional value, so that the lost nutrition has to be replaced by added ingredients.
There is a whole barrage of science and technology in use when handling food in order to deliver it to its intended destination in close proximity to the nutritional value it started out with. The duty of the food shopper is to be educated in what that value is.
Maybe this article is a little early to talk about growing food, but food is growing somewhere in the world during all the seasons of the year, and being delivered to a myriad of destinations worldwide 24/7. Bon appétit!
FOOD CAN BE FRESH OFF THE FARM . . . OR NOT
Although I lived on a farm, I still had a job—at the time working for the USDA as a poultry inspector. I came home from work one day and, on impulse, stopped by a grocery store and bought a nicely marbled steak which I prepared for dinner. I picked a vine-ripened tomato from the garden and a couple of ears of corn and anticipated a nice little feast.
The steak would be tender because of the marbling of fat and the tomato would taste sweet because it was vine ripened, and the corn would taste fresh because I had just pulled the ears off the stalks.
I slathered a thin layer of mustard on the steak for added flavor and put it under the oven broiler for a few minutes each side. The tomatoes were sliced and seasoned a little, and the corn was husked and boiled to doneness and coated with butter and a sprinkling of salt.
I could easily cut the steak with a fork. The tomatoes tasted good on a slice of bread that was spread with a thin layer of salad dressing (my preference). The corn had been picked at the right time, so it was tender and flavorful. It all tasted like heaven.
There is a value to living on a farm where everything is fresh. I happened to live on a chicken farm at the time where fresh eggs were in abundance.
Living on a farm means working daily at the chores of feeding the livestock, gathering eggs, milking cows, fixing up anything broken, plowing up the ground in the spring and buying seed for crops, weeding the garden every few days for so, watering the plants during a dry spell, and making sure animals like rabbits, groundhogs or birds, don’t raid the garden or the fields.
There is a sense of freshness in the air, much of the time. Other scents may pervade the atmosphere when the animal pens are cleaned out. There are pros and cons all over the place, but one gets used to it when one is addicted to country living.
It has to be mentioned that this is where all your food comes from, whether it be a small farm or a huge conglomerate which is in dairy, meat and crop production. Those packages of beef, pork, veal, lamb, chicken, turkey, fresh sausage, smoked sausage, and the delicious rotisserie chicken that some grocery stores prepare—they all come from a farm.
Then you have apples, pears, peaches, cherries—and in warmer climates oranges, lemons, bananas; the list goes on.
My Dad was a great gardener. We moved from farm to farm over the years, and at each farm he laid out a garden to grow lettuce, peas, sweet corn, tomatoes, carrots, celery, lima beans, string beans, bush beans, pole beans, cabbage, red beets, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cucumbers, cantaloupe, squash, muskmelon, watermelon, and ground cherries. He was careful to properly enrich the soil, and spent time hoeing out the weeds—and we kids were involved in that too.
But when the agricultural industry gets larger to feed millions of people, and to deliver to the far corners of the worldwide marketplace, there are other factors that weigh in with the growing, processing, and marketing of food.
For sales appeal, food has to be kept fresh and safe, and look good to the discriminating eye and appetite. In addition, there is canned, frozen and dried food which maintains longevity.
Trying to keep it fresh can be tricky when food is handled by the ton and truckload. There are ways to maintain quality, but it may include inventiveness on the part of the mega businesses, especially when food has to travel thousands of miles.
There are a lot of people involved in getting food to your table who plow the soil, put down fertilizer, plant seed, cultivate, irrigate, harvest (which may include migrant workers), prepare the food for transport to factories or markets, package, determine the price and advertise. And when food goes to a factory for canning, freezing, and processing, there is a whole new dynamic involved in the process.
Processing food involves the use of additional ingredients to give it the proper color, proper consistency, proper taste and nutrition. When food is heated, for example, it can lose a lot of its nutritional value, so that the lost nutrition has to be replaced by added ingredients.
There is a whole barrage of science and technology in use when handling food in order to deliver it to its intended destination in close proximity to the nutritional value it started out with. The duty of the food shopper is to be educated in what that value is.
Maybe this article is a little early to talk about growing food, but food is growing somewhere in the world during all the seasons of the year, and being delivered to a myriad of destinations worldwide 24/7. Bon appétit!
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