JUNK AND SPAM

Junk and Spam sounds like the name of a law firm that advertises on television, but they are two features on my amazing MacBook Pro. Computers are truly astonishing---especially when they work. Most of the time, my computer can discern the difference between legitimate e-mails and the unwanted kind. I don’t know how it does that, but when these unsolicited e-mails arrive, they are automatically tossed into “Junk and Spam” folders, and then, with a flick of the finger, I can delete them.

Everyday, my folders are filled with at least thirty or more pieces of junk mail. Usually, I quickly scan them to be sure that legitimate communications haven’t landed into one of those slots, and then I get rid of them.

However, as a less than scientific experiment, in the past few weeks, I decided to jot down some of the subject matter that ended up in my folders. Had I opened them up, I could have “learned more about cremation” after “taking a walk in my
bathtub,” or “eaten some of the foods that will kill my brain.”

Several of these junk inquiries seemed inordinately interested in my brain. One advertized a “brain revolution.” I would need this to invest in “penny stocks” or “crush my fat.” Ouch! One enticing subject only said, “enthralling.”  Maybe that involved how I’d feel if I needed a “nail fungus remedy,” or wanted to “meet a cougar.” I’ve seen cougars in the mountains. No way do I want to meet one up close.

I guess it wouldn’t be so bad to hire a “Russian woman” if she did windows. I found it very confusing, when there was an offer to “remove bedbugs” with a “bedding blowout.”  If I had bedbugs, I would blow up my bed!

Then there are pretend professionals who dive into the river of spam. I was offered and “option for a divorce attorney,” a “Buy now pay later” deal, and a “one stop dental implant.” I guess that’s a kind of drive through experience.  You open your mouth, the dentist sticks in an implant, and you can get a Big Mac on your way out.

A “Luxury Weight Loss Resort” might be your last resort, because even with “permanent dentures” one would have to have a “mental disorder” to “lose 30 pounds in 30 days,” unless they plan to do some really deep “erasing of all those wrinkles.” In case any of you are interested, there is still “open enrollment” if you want to “sell your assets.”

Many years ago, before the advent of computers, there was a place called Maxwell Street in Chicago. It was the carnival street for hucksters, con men and scam artists. The inside of a raincoat could be lined with watches for sale, and a fortune could be made if you could discover the prize hidden under the three   cups which were quickly moved around by the man behind the table. Designer purses and clothes could be purchased, if you didn’t care where they came from or if they were fakes. My favorite con was the perfume trick. Perfumes that usually were available for big bucks were sold from a small table that could quickly be folded up if the police arrived. 

The salesman had a convincing spiel. “Smell the stopper in the bottle.”  It always smelled so sweet. The fragrance was delicious and the price was right. When the customer got home, she discovered that the perfume was soaked in the stopper, and the bottle was filled with Chicago River water that didn’t smell half as good.

Even with technology, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Esther Blumenfeld (“A sucker is born every minute.”) “attrib.” P.T. Barnu

MAD ABOUT THE GIRL

There are worse things in life than dropping a sizzling, hot baked potato on the floor, but when I did it twice, I recognized, that using an oven mitt would have been a good idea. Of course, I know the difference between a microwave oven and an oven oven.  It’s not stupidity. It’s hubris. I was impatient, in a hurry, and wanted my baked potato---NOW!

I am woman see me roar, but in this case I was roaring, “Hot! Hot! Hot!”
Naturally, as I wiped smashed potato off the floor, I was angry with myself, but happily, I can’t stay angry with anyone. Anger is more corrosive than rock salt.

In contrast, the next morning, on my way to a dental appointment, I encountered my first experience with “road rage,” which is way scarier than dropping a hot potato.

With cars streaming in both directions, I sat behind the wheel of my automobile, at a busy intersection, waiting for the traffic light’s left turn arrow. It was safer to wait, because I couldn’t see around the cars that were going to turn on the opposite side of the street.

A young man, in the car behind me got my attention as he sat in his car flailing his arms, yelling, and honking his horn (not his horn but rather the horn of his dilapidated car). My windows were closed, so I couldn’t hear what he was shouting, but I got the impression that he was very angry with me.

In a few seconds, the green arrow appeared, I made my left turn, and flipped on my right turn directional signal since I immediately was going to turn right onto the road that led to my dentist’s office. The man in the car behind me was still honking, and yelling and waving his arms, and he continued to follow me—very close. At this point I was concerned that he was steering his car with his feet, and that he might decide to shoot off something more than his mouth. This guy didn’t need anger management. He needed nitwit management.

As I parked in front of the dentist’s office, my brave, pudgy, little dentist ran out with his drill going full blast and scared the road raging fellow away. No, that part of the story isn’t true, but I think a couple of well-placed shots of Novocain, would have done the enraged man some good. Happily, he sped off, tires squealing, obscenities spewing, ready to face the rest of his venomous day. This is when you want to advise someone to; “Remember to always be yourself, unless you are a jackass.”

Esther Blumenfeld (“Whoa, who peed in your Cheerios?”) Becca Fitzpatric

WORRYWART

Once upon a time, a scorpion came to a river and saw a duck swimming near the bank. “I can’t swim,” said the scorpion. “Will you take me to the other side?” “No!” said the duck. “If I let you climb on my back, you will sting me.” “I promise that I won’t do that,” said the scorpion. 

So the duck let the scorpion hop on his back, and he began to swim to the other side. When they got to the middle of the river, the scorpion stung the duck. “Why did you do that?” said the duck. “Now we will both drown.” “Couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s just my nature.”

The prominent theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr authored the famous Serenity Prayer: 

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, 
The courage to change the things I can,
 And wisdom to know the difference.”

It’s that third part that always gets me, because I am a worrier. It’s just my nature!
My mother had beautiful wavy black hair, crystal blue eyes and a patrician nose. I didn’t inherit any of those traits. No, instead, she gave me the worry gene.

My mother worried when there was nothing to worry about She even worried about why she wasn’t worried. Today was always the tomorrow she worried about yesterday.

I try very hard to adhere to the advice given by Vikrant Parsai, “It is foolish to worry about something which is beyond your control---such as your life.” But it is really difficult to do so.

My friend, Barbara is also a world-class worrier. My consolation is that she has 3 children and 8 grandchildren, so she has 9 more worries than I do. However, I think she found it comforting when I suggested she not worry about the world coming to an end today, because it’s already tomorrow in Australia.

I am too busy to worry too much during the daytime, but there is nothing as aggravating as worry in the dark of night.  That’s when unsorted thoughts start churning in my mind and lead to sleeplessness. For instance, one night I lay in bed and thought, ”Where is the nearest Urgent Care Facility? What if I start bleeding, and I have to drive around looking for it? I’ll bleed all over the car before I find it.”

Shannon Celebi would admonish, “You’re worried about what-ifs. Well, what if you stop worrying?” Anticipating trouble or worrying about what may never happen reminds me of how little control I really have over future events. 

I’m going to make a real effort to change. Maybe, I should write a story about it.

Exaggerated worry in the middle of the night is like waking up with a hangover--- finding out that there was no party---and that I didn’t have any fun at all. And, I am going to try to remember that today is the tomorrow that drove me bonkers yesterday.

Esther Blumenfeld (“Do not worry about avoiding temptation. As you grow older, it will avoid you.”…Joey Adams)

A FAIR HEARING

A Fair Hearing

My attorney suggested that I review my will every five years. I agreed with his assessment and added, “It’s probably a good idea to do that while I can still hear what my family is saying about me.”

Snakes hear with their jawbones, fish respond to pressure changes, and male mosquitoes use antennae. Human ears never stop hearing. Even when you sleep, your brain just ignores incoming sounds.

I’ve always considered myself a good listener, but in order to listen carefully, one has to catch all of the words being spoken. My hearing loss was gradual, and, not being in denial, I realized that word clarity was becoming increasingly more difficult. I kept asking people to repeat themselves. I kept missing dialogue in movies and stage productions, and I often strained to hear what was being said in class.

So, wanting to get back into the conversation, I went to an audiologist who confirmed my suspicions that my ears were not filled with wax, but that I had a hearing loss that could be helped.  

Consequently, my days of saying, “What?” or “Talk louder!” are now over, because I have invested in an amazing technology called, “top of the line, digital computerized, miniature hearing aids.” These little miracles have once more opened up the total world of sound that I was missing.

Paraphrasing Ronald Reagan---He said, “Since I came to the White House, I got two hearing aids a prostate operation, and I was shot. The damn thing is I’ve never felt better.” While I don’t expect to have prostate surgery, and hope that the only shot I experience will be a shot of Scotch, I too, with hearing aids, “have never felt better!” Clarity of words is back and the stress is gone. I have always been a bit offbeat, but I no longer have to worry that people will think I am a total dimwit. 

A 12-year study conducted by the Neurology Department at John Hopkins School of Medicine found that untreated hearing loss increased the risk of dementia. It is suspected that, “becoming more socially isolated is a risk factor for dementia and other cognitive disorders.”

An actor on stage has to hear his cue. It would ruin the play if she said, “The hills are alive with WHAT?” I am an avid fan of British television shows on PBS, but in the past I had difficulty catching much of the dialogue. So, to check out my hearing aids, I surfed the channels until I found a British comedian. The good news is that I understood everything he said. The bad news is that he wasn’t very funny.

Yesterday, I dropped a pin on the floor. I could hear it drop. However, I am still looking for it. Guess my next trip will be to visit my ophthalmologist.

Esther Blumenfeld (Now I know that “Thursday” doesn’t mean, “Let’s go get a drink.”)

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

My friend, Fay (of blessed memory) had a neighbor who was taking Tennis lessons. After the first lesson, she called Fay and said, “ We practiced our forehand swings and our backhand swings, and I did great!” The next day, Fay saw her in the grocery store and asked, “So, how did your Tennis lesson go today?” “Not so good,” said her neighbor. “They introduced the ball.”

I took Tennis as an elective physical education course in college. My fiancé had been on a Tennis team and suggested we play a match. After ten minutes on the court, he asked me, “”What grade did you get in Tennis?” 
“An A” I proudly replied. “Well,” he said, “it must have been for attendance.” I married him, but we never played Tennis again. However, once I did beat him in Miniature Golf. We never played that game again either.

I once went to dinner with friends who play Golf.  They spoke a foreign language that involved pars and tees and a Mulligan. I thought a Mulligan was a stew invented by hobos.

Pickle ball, a racket sport that combines elements of Badminton, Tennis and Ping-Pong was invented in 1965, and is one of the fastest growing sports in North America. It is recommended for people who enjoy racket sports and pickles.

For people who prefer in-door games to exercise their minds, the Chinese introduced Mahjong. The game is played with a set of beautifully colored tiles based on Chinese characters and symbols.

My Mother played Mahjong, and as a child I enjoyed building towers with her tiles. While a game was underway in our home, my favorite activity was sneaking into the bedroom and trying on the players’ hats and coats. I especially enjoyed parading around in a fox stole that still had the fox’s head attached.

As you might have guessed, I don’t play card games either. I like the snacks people serve when playing Bridge, and I know it is one of the world’s most popular card games. Bridge involves dealing, bidding, playing the cards and scoring, but it also involves card shuffling at which I simply do not excel.

When my in-laws lived in Florida, I observed normal old people turn into blood sucking, rip-out-your-throat monsters while playing Contract Bridge. Four players play the game in two competing partnerships---North and South play against East and West. 

My friend Angie is an excellent Bridge player, and went on a “Caribbean Bridge Cruise.” When she got to the table she said, “Hi, I’m Angie,” A woman already seated, scowled at her, and said, “I’m North!” At that point Angie was ready to “jump overboard.”

Chutes and Ladders is a board game for very young children. My son, Josh loved it when he was three-years old. I know that the CIA could make anyone confess anything by making him play Chutes and Ladders more than once. The only board game I ever enjoyed was Scrabble until my Father wouldn’t allow me to make up words.

When it comes to games, I am not a total WUSS! I do love playing Trivia. I especially enjoy joining Trivia teams on cruise ships.  The quiz game involves remembering arcane bits of knowledge, and nostalgic remembrances of pop culture. 

On February 5, 1965, Ed Goodgold and Dan Carlinsky wrote an article in the Columbia University Daily Spectator. In the article they asked, “Who played the old Gypsy woman in The Wolfman?” (Answer: “Maria Ouspenskaya”). And the rest is history. The largest current Trivia contest is held in Stevens Point Wisconsin at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point’s college radio station. I’ve never joined one of the 400 teams that participate, but if they ask, ”Which state is the largest consumer of Jell-O?” I am ready!

Esther Blumenfeld (answer----“California”