Trying To Keep Up

      As we walked through the parking lot of a local grocery store, my five-year-old grandson Charlie announced, “You're 71 years old and still alive.”

Thanks, Charlie.  Yes, I'm trying to keep up through all the aches and pains.

My wife and I did have a little difficulty keeping up with our five youngest grandkids whom we watched while their parents were out of town.  The kid posing the most difficulty was the baby, Miles, who turns two in July.

Despite being the baby of the family, Miles insists on joining in whatever activity his older brothers and sister are doing.  For example, when they wanted to color pages I printed out on my computer, so did Miles.

And why don't kids want to color with crayons like we did when we were kids?  Instead, they insist on using “washable” markers, washable being a misnomer since they're not easily washable off everything as my wife has discovered.

So when Miles decided to grab a marker and join in the fun, Wendy went after him, knowing that coloring on paper like he was supposed to do was not his plan.  Miles took off, marker in hand, when he saw grandma coming.

Even though just a toddler, Miles is a little faster than his grandma.  And he thought it was great fun to have grandma chasing him around the house.  She did finally catch up and disarm him.  With his knack for getting into trouble, Miles had to be watched.  I thought we might be able to rely on big sister Gwen, 8, to help in that regard as she was the eldest of the five.

But when Wendy was downstairs doing laundry and I could hear the three older brothers arguing loudly upstairs, I asked Gwen if she could keep an eye on Miles so I could de-escalate tensions on the second floor.  She replied, “Nope.  I'm watching a movie.”  Thanks, Gwen.

I should add that picking up and carrying Miles anywhere is a weighty risk for seniors as he exceeds his siblings with one childhood benchmark, his appetite.  Recently his dad made jambalaya for dinner.  The only child not to turn his nose up at this offering was Miles.  He ate the jambalaya. 

We took all five to the library, another adventure.  Again, Miles played catch-me with his grandma, sprinting off to the adult section of the library while I was trying to help the other four with picking out books, signing on to the library computer learning system, and selecting movies to borrow.  Gwen had picked out a bunch of Blu-Ray movie DVDs which I had to tell her we couldn't play at home since we didn't have a Blu-Ray  disc player.

Then with books and movies checked out, it was time to leave.  But . . . where was Miles?  I couldn't spot him anywhere.  Neither could Wendy.  I booked it towards the exit to head him off in case he might be trying to flee the building while Wendy checked elsewhere in the library.  It didn't take long to find him.  He was seated at one of the computer learning stations.  If his brothers could do it, he wanted to try as well.

            What can we do to slow this plus-sized toddler down?  Perhaps another helping of jambalaya?

Time Capsule REVEALED

      Twenty five years ago I predicted the decline of the internet. I know that since I just opened a time capsule I created that included personal observations I made back when Y2k was just around the corner.

     Of course, I was wrong, globally as well as personally. Since 1999, I've started a blog, created my YouTube channel, and joined Facebook. But I still don't own a cell phone, which I referred to as a “cordless telephone” when I wrote my Y2k personal profile 25 years ago.

     So what else did I pull out of my time capsule? I included over 30 photos taken back then. Our city has grown much since. My kids' elementary school that I photographed 25 years ago is no more, torn down with a newly built subdivision taking its place. But our house is the same with mostly cosmetic changes—carpeting replaced or rooms painted different colors. Much of the furniture has been replaced but the old piano I played which my parents moved 100 miles from my hometown of Bay City lies only a few feet from where it sat 25 years ago. It's woefully out of tune, however.

     One photograph captured our pet dog Doogie lying on our bed, his favorite spot, particularly when the sun warmed the quilt where he laid. Doogie's been gone for almost 17 years but we still remember his antics as vividly as they happened 20 years ago. He was a favorite topic of my blogs. By the way, when you Google “blogspot” today, you will read that it still exists but has declined in popularity “as its features and design have become somewhat outdated."

     Hmmm, what was it that old Fezziwig said in the 1951 movie version of Scrooge? “I'll have to be loyal to the old ways and die out with them if needs must.” Long live blogspot, or blogger as it's known now.

     From the capsule cannister I also dug out a 1999 TV Guide that rated the 50 greatest characters ever to appear on TV shows. Topping that list was Louie De Palma from Taxi. He beat out Arthur Fonzarelli, Lucy Ricardo and Mr. Spock from Star Trek. A more recent list of the top 50 greatest TV characters compiled by the “ranker” website didn't list De Palma at all. Mr. Spock ranked 20^th with Lucy and Fonzie further down the list. What do they say? Fame is fleeting?

     I also pulled out a Special Millennium Edition of USA Today. It amazed me how little has changed in the past 25 years. On page two was an article about officials in southern California fearing that fireworks set off to mark the beginning of 2000 may start disastrous fires after they suffered a particularly dry summer. Also, there was a computer glitch that froze 50 million Hotmail accounts. Actually it was a $35 bill that Microsoft owed. An independent computer consultant paid the bill and service was restored. Then there were stories about tension in the MidEast, a mass shooting in Florida (the Columbine shootings occurred in 1999), and the stabbing of former Beatles guitarist George Harrison.

     By the way, USA Today's predictions for the future weren't much better than mine. By 2000, they said the Pokemon fad would be out, replaced by Pokey Reese. I don't know what Pokey Reese is but my grandsons are crazy about their Pokemon cards. I had one professionally appraised myself. USA Today also predicted that ads should be removed before movies are shown at theatres that will also employ jamming devices to disable cell phones so patrons aren't distracted while enjoying the latest feature. Yeah, like that happened

     The irony of some USA Today articles impressed me most. As 2000 would be a presidential election year, the newspaper previewed some of the potential candidates. One such individual was a confessed germ-phobe, pictured with the subtitle “clean hands freak”. USA reported that he sanitized his hands after greeting potential voters and distributed bottles of hand sanitizer to reporters.

     That was Donald Trump who did run and won the presidency 16 years later, then faced one of the worst outbreak of infections in history with the Covid virus.  There could be more irony in Trump's re-election as he promised the return of the Panama Canal to the United States.  USA reported in its Millenium edition that the U.S. had just turned over the canal to Panama. 

Seasonal Realities

      My five youngest grandkids are always asking me this time of year to check Santa's nice and naughty list which you can find on this website called Christmas Affairs. Pretty much every name you can think of is on this list, along with a designation of either naughty or nice.

     When I checked the list for them at a recent visit to their house, the results of my searches were less than positive. Only Charlie, the middle child at four years old, made the nice list. That did not set well with his big brother Davis.

     “That's scammy,” he complained. “It's a scam. It's not real.” Poor Davis was quite upset, complaining that he had been nice all year. What could I do? Tell him not only that the list is a scam but Santa Claus isn't real either?

     Speaking of what's real and not real with winter holidays approaching, I had some difficulty coaxing Charlie to go to bed one night while we were babysitting him. I told them I saw something wonderful in the distance outside their bedroom window.

     That worked and Charlie ascended the stairs to his bedroom. Outside in the distance, there were three lighted snowman decorations in an otherwise empty backyard. He saw them with their lights shimmering and said, “I've seen them. They're not real.”

     So what would be considered a real snowman then? One actually made out of snow? Or maybe Frosty, or Olaf? I never thought to ask.

     Earlier that day I took Charlie and his three-year-old brother Lewis to Rentschler Farms where Santa Claus was having a meet and greet. Lewis was very excited and when we arrived at the farm he began calling out, “Where's Santa Claus? I want to see Santa Claus.” Very loudly too.

     Then we entered a barn and there Santa was, sitting on a sleigh. Mrs. Claus was there too and called Charlie and Lewis over for a chat. Charlie went but not Lewis who cowered behind me when he realized that this Santa was real. “I scared,” he told me. What was he expecting when he was calling out for Santa Claus just a minute before?

     Back to Santa's naughty and nice list, I told Charlie that I should check my own name but Charlie didn't feel that was necessary. “You're the best Grandpa. You're always good.” he explained.

     Knowing that Charlie goes to a Catholic school, I asked him if I was as good as Jesus.

     “No, you're not that good,” he said. Was I better than the devil then? Charlie's eyes lit up as he said, “You're a lot better than the devil.” Good to know.

     By the way, that naughty and nice list on-line has been updated this week. Now, not only is Charlie on the nice list, but his two younger brothers and his older sister as well. In fact, the only kid in the family on the naughty list now . . . is Davis.

     I guess I must have a little devil in me since I feel I have to give Davis the bad news.

Scammed!

  I am paranoid when it comes to making any sort of financial transactions on the internet.  Do I want my computer to save my password?  Nope!  Do I want some merchant to save my credit card information for future transactions?  Absolutely not!  Do I want Zelle, Pay Pal, cryptocurrency or any number of electronic fund transfer services?  Never.  

So I count myself savvy and safe when it comes to preventing myself from getting scammed.  But it did happen.  There is a weak spot in my internet defense. The missus orders frequently from Amazon and other on-line retailers, pays bills with her cell phone and uses her Kindle to access the internet.

Okay, so I have to admit, all of that is normal in this day and age.  I get flak all the time for my stone age philosophies in the age of artificial intelligence and instant gratification.  But now I have an example of why being paranoid pays off.

My wife's Kindle, which is less than six months old, began acting up, its screen flashing incoherently with no button pressing or finger swiping able to bring it out of its electronic fit.  She tried turning it off and on, pretty much what every customer service representative advises as cure-all for any electronic on-line device.  That didn't work.

So my wife Googled on her phone, hoping to find a phone number or website for Kindle support.  She may have typed the question, “How to fix a wonky Kindle” or something similar.  Some entity, and I'm using that word very charitably, agreed to help.  But it would cost her $5.  That seemed a fair price compared to buying a new Kindle or having a repairperson look at it so she committed the ultimate sin.  She gave the entity her credit card number.

Within minutes, she received an automated phone call from our bank asking if we had authorized a $51 charge to our credit card.  Turns out that the $51 charge is the monthly membership fee for an outfit called “JustAsk”, which was the entity she apparently found on-line.

Wendy said 'no', she only authorized a $5 charge.  But you could only answer yes or no to the bank's robotic answering service.  Wendy said 'no'.  Then our bank put a lock on our credit card.  We're in the midst of making reservations for a trip and needed that credit card to be active  We unlocked the credit card.

My wife then called JustAsk who canceled the membership, but NOT the $51 charge.  By the way, the JustAsk guy made the same “turn it off, then back on” suggestion that Wendy already tried unsuccessfully.  So they were no help.

When the $51 appeared as pending on our credit card statement, I called Bank of America to dispute the charge.  While waiting for a live customer service agent, the recording that played in the background over and over advised me to contact the merchant directly if I had a dispute with the charge.  To me, that was like contacting the overseas crook that just scammed you out of hundreds of dollars as you tried to collect a non-existent lottery prize.  No thanks.

When I did finally get a representative from the bank on the phone, they said I had to wait until the charge, which was pending at the time, actually posted to my bill.  What?!  We said up front the charge was a fraud.  The bank must have known the charge came from a shady outfit as they themselves contacted us immediately.  Can't they nip this scam right in the bud?  Turns out, no.

I was not happy and I think the customer service agent knew that.  At the end of our conversation, she said I might get a survey to rate her service.  I never did though.  I think they knew better than to send me one.  After the charge posted to our bill, I immediately disputed it and within a week was credited back the $51.  Fingers crossed that's the end of this debacle.

Oh, and the clunky Kindle?  My wife did some research and was able to fix it herself.

A Halloweenaphile?

 

I Google-searched recently to see if there's a word to describe someone like myself who is obsessed with all things Halloween. Unfortunately, according to Google's artificial intelligence assistant, there is no such word. That's too bad. There is a word for lover of the dead, which is necromonger, and for all things spooky, a spookaphile. I don't think I fit either.

For years, going to the Halloween in the Village event at Greenfield Village has been on my bucket list. Tickets always sell out in advance. This year I red-lettered the date when tickets would go on sale to the public. At the event's website, a countdown timer marked the days, hours and minutes until the fateful time I could go on-line to purchase my own tickets. I wanted five—one for me, one for my son Scott and three for my grandkids, Gwen and Owen, aged 7 and Davis, 5.

By the time tickets went on sale to the general public, members of the Henry Ford Museum, who could purchase advance tickets early, already bought out tickets for all the Saturdays in October. We're talking thousands of tickets too. I signed in to the website exactly at the appointed time, 9 a.m., but there were already over 50 in queue for tickets. I felt as if I were vying to a chance to see Taylor Swift in concert. But I did get my tickets for the second Friday in October which made me a happy camper.

When Friday, October 11^th came, I was delighted that the weather was pleasantly warm and only partly cloudy, good since we'd be arriving at sunset when autumn's chill can often puts a damper on outdoor activities. After giving my paper tickets to the clerk—I think I was the only one in line without digital tickets—we entered the village.

Once inside, it was magical: the storybook settings, the flickering lights, the medieval costumes of witches and vampires, the haunting music that filled the air . . . it was everything I imagined it would be. Jack-o'-lanterns lined the walkways, with over 1,000 hand-carved pumpkins filling the village including over 50 hanging from a tree that stood over 30 feet tall and a six-foot pyramid of pumpkins. Some pumpkin carving seemed the work of professionals including one in which my granddaughter Gwen recognized as Princess Peach from the Super Mario world, Gwen coincidentally dressed as Princess Peach herself. The images of Luigi and Mario were carved into separate pumpkins as well.

You won't find anything gory or too scary here. Our scariest encounter came when we witnessed the headless horseman chase Ichobod Crane, both on horseback, around haystacks in a farmer's field. I should note that adult guests can come costumed as well and one particular guest bore a dead-on resemblance to Michael Myers from the movie Halloween. He side-eyed me in a menacing manner as I passed. Another couple made me feel as if I were in a Turner Classic Movie from the 40s, he dressed in a wool suit with matching hat, she wearing a vintage cocktail dress with lapel collar.

The grands rode the 1913 vintage carousel with bobbing horses of wood, hand-carved and hand-painted. Also riding was an older man dressed and made-up like Beetlejuice from the movie. He even wore his trademark black and white broad-striped suit. Gwen met with fortune-teller Madame Zaza who predicted she would make many friends because she was a kind person. We passed Mother Goose who was reading the familiar children's book Room on a Broom.

Our final stop was Smiths Creek Station where we caught the Halloween Express, boarding open air train cars to be pulled around the park by a steam locomotive. We saw a wolfman, a train car full of ghosts who rose from their seats before sitting back down, and bigfoot almost hidden by trees in a wooded section. We also passed a bridge troll and the grim reaper who waved hello to us as we passed. At least I hope he was waving hello. The grim reaper waving goodbye would seem too ominous.

After the train ride, the village was beginning to close. On the way out, we passed the 'wizard of Oz', just a face projected onto a large screen, but who was able to communicate with passersby. She called out to the grandkids and suggested,” We should get a picture of your gang here.” She told them to turn around so their photo could capture the wizard n the background. Scott and the three grands dutifully turned their backs to the wizard.

“Not you dad,” the wizard said. “You need to take the picture.” So Scott took out his camera and got the picture with the three grandkids. I stuck my face in there as well. Then the wizard disappeared. It was an appropriate ending to our visit. I can scratch that from my bucket list. But that doesn't mean I won't be back. I'm a Halloween aficionado for life.

One Last Camping Trip

     My wife and I wanted to make one more trip with the Puma Ultralight camper we bought this year, one last road trip before we winterize our new trailer and put it in mothballs for the winter.

    Our choice this time was not to go to a state park or some other back-to-nature setting, but instead to venture to Shipshewana, Indiana. This is Amish country with horse-drawn buggies clip-clopping down roads and streets, clothes hanging outside on the line, and stores that sell electrical appliances are non-existent.

    That's not the main reason I wanted to travel here. I got us tickets to see Tommy James and the Shondells which was playing at a local theatre. We haven't been to a rock concert in ages. Why not?

    Of course, while we're there we'll do some shopping: soup mixes, jams and perhaps a shoofly pie if we can find one. At many Amish stores, they only accept cash. No credit or debit cards. That's fine with me as I can get rid of some of the pennies I've collected over many months.

    At one store, I was charged $2.49 for something I bought. I didn't have 49 cents in change, but I give him $3 and four pennies. At least I can get a nickel along with two quarters. I would rather have one nickel than four pennies.

    But the clerk gave me back my pennies, telling me petulantly, “It's $2.49.” Then he gave me two quarters in change. So not only did I not get my nickel, he short-changed me a penny. I let it go. I didn't really want another penny anyway.

    This wasn't an Amish-run store though. We did go to a variety store that actually catered to the locals. There were racks and racks of broad-brimmed black hats worn by men. There also was a large collection of dark-colored stocking hats. Another aisle displayed shoes and boots, almost all of them black. My wife was tempted by their kitchenware. I noticed a few pressure-cookers on the shelves.

    Anyway, there was one display that puzzled me. It was a collection of various computer printer ink cartridges, the kind where you spend about $25 to print a hundred or so pages on your HP printer. If the Amish avoid electrical appliances generally, why would they need printer ink? I didn't see any printers for sale, nor any other electrical gadgets on display.

    Perhaps if Amish do use computers and printers, maybe there's an Amish blogger out there who could clue me in.

    By the way, there were no Amish buggies in the parking lot of the concert we attended. I guess that makes sense since they're not likely to have ever heard Tommy James and the Shondells over radio, TV or stereo. And at this concert believe me when I say the band and singers used every volt of electricity in town for their amplifiers. I'm sure the Amish didn't miss it.

Facing Your Fears

[Warning: Some violent content. Reader discretion advised.]

    So my wife and I were watching TV rather late one evening when a bat startled the hang out of us, circling the family room where we were ensconced in our recliners. Bats have invaded our home before but after our chimneys were patched up last year, we were told, “No more bats.”

    Obviously, this fellow didn't get the memo.

    He flew out of view as quickly as he'd come in and I figured he had gone upstairs. Our bedrooms are upstairs and there was no way we would sleep until this creature was neutralized. I went out to the garage to grab a couple tennis rackets—I've not played tennis in ages but I figured my Jimmy Connors vintage wooden racket would come in handy in this instance.

    Meanwhile, my wife was Googling on her Kindle ways of getting rid of an unwanted bat in the house. Hmmmm, I think “unwanted” bat is being redundant. However, Wendy said the YouTube videos she was reading strongly advised against using a tennis racket, saying instead to live capture the bat with a bucket and releasing it out of doors.

    What??!! So he can come back inside and maybe bring friends? “Hey guys, follow me. I found this neat old home.”

    Nope. This bat must be dispatched for good and now. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed up the stairs one by one. Could I be too old to be doing this? My son lives just across town. Maybe I should just give him a call. But I recalled an incident over 20 years ago when we were similarly buzzed by a bat in our home. My son and I ascended the stairs together to confront the bat but when he flew into the upstairs hallway, my son ducked into the bathroom and quickly slammed the door. Maybe in 20 years he's added more courage. Then again, maybe not.

    When I climbed the last step, the hallway was empty and quiet. My idea was to trap him in one of the bedrooms or try to swat him if he flew by me. I opened the door to the first bedroom, not really expecting to see him since the door was nearly closed. But there he was. And here he came. I flailed my racket like I was trying to swat a fly, but the bat escaped into another of the upstairs bedrooms. I closed the door, trapping him inside.

    But now what to do? I waited till the rustling inside the bedroom had subsided. I'd rather not have him confronting me Dracula-style when I opened the door. So when all was quiet, I slowly opened the bedroom door to have a peek.

    There he was, clinging to a window curtain. That posed another problem. To get a good lick at him with my tennis racket where he was, I could easily break the window. So I added another step to the process. That was to hit him with a broom first, then the tennis racket. Finding a broom, I returned back upstairs and into the bedroom, my heart pounding even harder.

    I approached him cautiously, then with a burst of adrenaline-fueled terror whacked him with the broom. But where was he? He wasn't lying on the floor as I expected. I prodded the curtain with the broom and saw him lying on the window sill, I used the broom to brush him to the floor.

    Then my bat hunt took a rather nightmarish turn. Have you ever seen a live bat walk? It's a grotesque shamble that makes it appear that he's walking with stumps for legs with wings held above his head as if he were the devil. I don't even think I've seen anything like it in any horror movie . . . and I've seen lots of them though in times like these I wished I hadn't.

    Now it was racket time. Jimmy Connors and I took down the creature with a few heavy blows before he found another hiding place. I could finally breathe a nervous sigh of relief.

    One of my grandsons told me this week that he wants to go trick-or-treating dressed as Batman this Halloween. I think I might try to talk him out of it. Might bring back too many bad memories.