Telescams

      “This is an important message about your credit card.  Currently, there is no problem with your credit card. . . .”

      “This message is from Microsoft.  Your computer has been compromised.  Do not do any financial transactions on your computer. . . . ”

     “You have a serious case filed against you by the IRS. . . . “

      I got a new one last week.  “We can no longer repair your computer.  Would you like a refund on what you have paid us?”

      I get so many bogus phone calls, I have the “Do-Not-Call Registry Violations” page bookmarked on my browser. https://complaints.donotcall.gov/complaint/complaintcheck.aspx if you want to file.  It was out of service during the government shutdown.  Maybe that’s why the robo calls have proliferated the last few weeks?

     One problem with filing is the scammers’ ability to mask their true phone number.  Sometimes, I have dialed a missed-call number to find either a baffled person on the other end who obviously didn’t make the call, or a message that the number I had dialed is no longer in service.  Conversely, I have had strangers call me and ask, “Did you just call me?”  Well, no.  It probably isn’t much help for those trying to enforce the Do-Not-Call registry if they don’t have the offenders’ true phone number.

     Anyway, one of the questions you have to answer as you fill out the complaint is “Have you asked them not to call?”  With that in mind, I stayed on the line or dialed the number I was given not too long ago.

       “Hello, how may I help you?” the seriously accented voice asked.

      “You can put me on your do-not-call list,” I answered.

      “[Unintelligible gibberish] not in my head.”

      “What?  It’s not in your head.  What do you mean?”

      “Not in my head!”

     “Are you saying you can’t put me on the do-not-call list?”

      “Y-e-s, but eef you want computer. . . .”

      “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  I don’t need to listen to all that.”

      “[Unintelligible gibberish] eediuht?”

      “What?  I can’t understand you.  Try again.”

      [Slowly] “Are you eediuht?”

      “Am I an idiot?”

     “Yeah.”

      “Probably, after all, I am talking to you.”

      “Your computer. . . .”

      “I don’t want to hear all that.  Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

      “Yeah?”

       “Do you comb your hair?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Do you look in the mirror to do it?”

     “Yeah.”

      “Do you ever say to the guy in the mirror that’s what a dirty, low-down, no-good-for-nuthin’ THIEF [click] looks like?”   End of conversation.

      That worked so well, when the guy wanting to refund the money I had paid to get my computer fixed (of course, I hadn’t paid anyone to fix my computer), I decided to try it again.

But it didn’t work.  When I asked him a second time to put me on their do-not-call list, he hung up. 

      Life, with all our conveniences, seems always to find a way to serve us lemons.  The cell phone is a marvelous invention.  Wouldn't it be nice if folks didn't abuse it? 

       I guess I’ll try to make some lemonade.  My goal now will be to get the telescammer to stay on the line long enough for me to ask him the pertinent question, “Do you like being a thief?”  Maybe I’ll be able to get an answer out of him.

       The problem is sorting out the genuine telephone calls from the scammers.  You can look up the number on the white pages reverse lookup if you have any doubts.   If the number is a private one, reverse lookup won’t give you the name of the caller.  However, it will tell you what the chances are that the number is associated with scams.

       If the number your phone shows is a bogus one, none of the above really works.  You are left with the ultimate solution, ignore the call.

       The irritating factor is the call always comes when your hands are covered with paint or grease or flour, or your phone is buried deep in purse or pocket.  Or worse of worst, when you forgot to shut the phone off for an important meeting, or while standing on stage (yes, it has happened—to me!).

        Ignore the phone’s demand.  If it’s important, they’ll call back.

      Good advice.  I’ll try to follow it.

     

Tucson Museums

      Tourists.  We played the role during our stay in Tucson.  We took in three “museums”, in quotes because none of the three quite fit the image of a big building with a collection of stuff.

       The Air and Space museum has four or five huge buildings filled with old airplanes, but it also has something like 80 acres of planes sitting in the desert sun where rust threatens not.

     There are a few planes from the time after World War I, such as a biplane or a Taylorcraft.

      Most of the collection dates from World War II.  We caught on with a knowledgeable tour guide who told us about the history of many of the WWII bombers and fighters stored in the buildings.   There were a few helicopters and some jet-powered aircraft in the buildings. 

     Huge behemoths rest on the tarmac outside.  It was a nice warm day with only a slight breeze, so we spent some time taking a look.

     The Desert Museum should really be called a zoo.   Various animals inhabit cages and enclosures.  Something like a dozen different rattlesnakes laze behind glass.  Three different ladies had non-poisonous snakes wrapped around their arms, which visitors could stroke if they wish.  I didn’t wish.     You can spend a few hours wandering around the grounds outdoors.

      You can take a look at some stalactites or stalagmites.

      Or some pig-like animals called javelinas who roam the desert.  RV campers are advised not to leave garbage out because it will attract javelinas, which can be destructive.  They aren’t really pigs.  Joe pointed out any pig would easily burrow under the fence and get out.

     Raptors provided the highlight of our visit.  They put on a show twice a day.  They zoom down close over the heads of their visitors to take meat from their handlers.  Keep your camera down below your face, and don’t hold small children on your shoulders.  They will be in the flight path and could be injured.

     Perhaps the most interesting place we visited was the Biosphere.  Like many folks, I had forgotten all about that experiment.  It was an attempt to create an enclosed space where humans could survive in an otherwise harsh environment, such as on the moon or Mars.

     It’s called Biosphere 2, Biosphere 1 being planet earth.  It consists of huge glass buildings with various types of environments enclosed, such as a rain forest.

     Or an ocean, where they killed the coral by introducing too much CO2.  An ongoing experiment is to revive the coral by finding a species that can withstand higher levels of carbonic acid, the product of water and CO2.

     A water filtration system helps recycle wastewater by using plants to take out the impurities.

     Of course, there is a desert “scene”.

     Underlying the indoor environment is a huge air-handler system.  Currently, it relies on fossil fuels to generate the electricity to operate pumps, fans, lights, etc.  They are working on developing solar power, which would be necessary on either the moon or Mars.

      Finally, there is the huge “lung” that makes it possible to keep an atmosphere enclosed without deadly blowouts of glass panes as pressure varies from changes in pressure from sunlight and the absence of solar rays, day and night, in other words.  As the air expands, the “ceiling” rises.  When the air cools, the “ceiling” lowers, keeping the atmospheric pressure somewhat stable.   

      The experiment started in the 1980’s, I think.  It was privately funded, land and materials mostly donated.  Now, it is funded and run by University of Arizona.

      Originally, eight people spent two years inside.  A second group of people began a term inside, but the experiment was halted, partially due to problems the first eight developed as a result of the isolation.  In a way, it was the forerunner of modern day survivor TV shows.

     The experiment continues, but without the human guinea pigs.  It will be interesting to see the results of trying to create viable systems separated from Biosphere 1.

Lou Gehrig’s Disease

     Fear.  Dread.  Horror.   And increasingly, people’s names.  Recently, I added one more name.

     Two years ago, we delivered a singing Valentine to a young lady, a victim of the disease.   She is in her 40’s.  We stood, two of us on one side of her bed, two on the other side.  On the walls of her bedroom hung testaments to her life:  pictures of her running, accepting a trophy, plaques and awards, along with other photos.

      She had been a competitive runner, a dancer, as well as a model.  She is that beautiful.  Now, she can move a leg a little.  Unable to speak, she controls a computer by eye movement.  Her computer is nearly as sophisticated as the one Stephen Hawking used.  Using the computer, she has authored a book.

      As we sang our two songs, tears ran down her cheeks.  Only by detaching from the situation did I prevent my own tears from joining hers.  It was Valentine’s Day.  We were supposed to be delivering joy.

     It is difficult to describe the emotions we felt as we left her room, the house, and walked back to the car.  Relief or shame that she had to deal with that burden, not me?

     Anger that life should dictate that anyone has to deal with that? 

     Pride in the human spirit that empowers a person to overcome insurmountable challenges?                     

     Joy that we could bring (we hoped) a moment of that same joy to her?

     Humility because we who had normal abilities didn’t do more with them?  Because we had this talent to share with others, yet didn’t share it more often?

      The last weekend of November, we headed to Greeley to the Union Colony Civic Center Festival of Trees.  The Center provides cookies, coffee, and fruit cups to mostly older folks who are available to attend such an event on a Wednesday at 1 p.m.  While the attenders munch goodies, walk around to view the trees that various organizations have decorated and entered into the display, and maybe enter a bid for the silent auction items on display, we sang some Christmas Carols.  We have been a part of this scene for three years, now.

      About 2:30, the ticket buyers (costs $3) move into the auditorium to take in the program presented by the Greeley Philharmonic Guild.  We sang “Java Jive” for the crew serving coffee, chatted with the Greeley Tribune reporter, and headed off for a less attractive job.

      Rex had been informed that one of his and Dick’s old barbershop buddies had just been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease.  He was in a rehab facility between Greeley and Loveland.  We should drop in and sing a song.

     A year ago, it was a similar situation, but following our Greeley appearance, we went to a hospital where one of our own chorus members was fighting cancer.  Last year, we went to the information desk to get the right room, only to find that Dale had checked out an hour or two before we got there.  Would we have the same luck this year?

      No, Ben was still in his assigned room.  We made our way through the labyrinth toward the room. 

     Dick stopped us and presented an idea.  He would blow the pitch for “Hello Neighbor” quietly just outside the door.  We would make a grand entrance.  It works because we begin the song with an arpeggio beginning with the tenor singing “hello”, followed by lead, baritone, and ending with the bass echoing “hello” on their respective notes.  “Okay?” Dick asked.

     “Okay.  If anybody gets shot it will be me,” I said.  I would be the first one through the door.

     Dick quietly blew the note on his pitch pipe.  I took the pitch and headed through the door.  “Hello!” I sang as I barged into the room.  There were four people in the room, Ben sitting in a chair, his wife standing beside him, one son standing close to the door I came through, and another son sitting on the bed right in front of me.

      They all startled at this unexpected interruption of this skinny gray-haired old guy busting through the door shouting “Hello!”  The man on the bed jumped and turned to face me.  The others all registered shock in their faces, that didn’t disappear when Ted closely followed me in the same manner, the only difference being the pitch of his “hello.” 

      When Dick followed, then Rex, the looks of shock were replaced with first relief and then joy as they saw two faces they recognized.  We weren’t far into the song before Ben had tears running down his cheeks.  With some difficulty, we finished the song. 

     Ben’s wife hugged Rex.  He explained that we had two more songs we wanted to sing for Ben.  She retreated and we went through “Chordbusters March” and “Java Jive.”  Then the old acquaintances greeted one another while Ben’s sons introduced themselves to the two newbies, Ted and I.

      The one son told me that barbershop was the one thing that kept his dad going, that he brought recordings for him to listen to, but our live performance far exceeded the canned versions.  He thanked me profusely for coming to sing.

      Outside in the hall just outside the door, we had drawn a dozen or so listeners from other patients and their caretakers.  When we exited the room, the onlookers dispersed. 

     In the hall, Ben’s wife confided in us that at the moment we crashed through the door, they had just returned from a meeting with the doctors who outlined what Ben had to look forward to in the coming days and weeks.  She said they were at an all-time low, that our interruption had done a lot to restore their spirits.  She thanked us for taking time to come sing for them.

      This time, we had to delay our reaction to our emotional performance.  We stopped to sing for the nurses and others at the nurses’ station.  Again, we drew a small crowd, some in wheelchairs, some using walkers, some staff members.

       We sang one for the ladies at the front desk who said they couldn’t hear us, we were so far away.  That one turned into two as again we drew some listeners.  One of the ladies among those gathered asked for a business card.  She said she would sure like for us to come back.

      We were a few miles down the road before Dick broke the silence by venturing that it was amazing how easy it was for us to bring a little joy to folks.  We should consider ourselves lucky that we had that talent.        

     Indeed.  Gratitude that we have that talent and gratification we get from others who appreciate it.  Those emotions wrestle with all the others that such an outing induces.

     Ben died on December 28.