VIGILANT & CAREFUL

 

At least I thought I was, but yet I was easily tricked and hacked! A number of my friends have been as well. A close one recently retired, a successful business woman far more tech savvy had her identity stolen. She's the last person I ever thought this would happen to, she was just too smart!

A different retired friend refuses to be on social media at all! And now insists I should not be either, that I'm just putting myself out there for dangerous things to happen.

Plus she claims never should I pay for a restaurant meal with my credit card as is my habit. It's too easy for someone to take a photo of the number with their phone. This actually happened to her and her husband.

Well I'm not going to let this experience stop me from living my life! As an independent author I need to be on social media. Also thanks to the pandemic and runaway inflation Facebook's largely my social life these days. Seldom can I afford go out and enjoy the things I did only five years ago.

I recall my Aunt Kiki, a beauty and former model. She was an extreme extrovert, outgoing with confidence to spare. However she was terrified to fly in an airplane. As a young bride she witnessed the gruesome aftermath of a plane crash on her street. The sight of severed and burned human limbs, heads and organs scattered across the pavement left her traumatized.

Back in the 1970's when I was jetting all over the world she feared for me. But I have glorious memories of all those wonderful countries I visited and the fabulous experiences I enjoyed.

I vividly recall my first flight at age seven. Ironically my mother and I flew to Detroit to visit HER!  This was also my mother's first as well. I remember her saying right in front of me that our plane was probably going to crash! I was petrified!

Our flight was late night which made it even scarier! I expected to be dead before morning!  -- My mother also told me in the 1970's that I would probably die in a plane crash!

Yet I remember waking up in my seat the next morning to the sight of the most breathtaking cloud formations I'd ever seen before or since. A sight so ethereal and beautiful I felt as if I was soaring thru heaven, all my fears vanished!

By age thirty, I'd flown more times than I can count. Yes, there were some close calls along with negative experiences, but never regrets.

HACKED & HIJACKED

 

Suspicious activity was going on and I ignored it for too long. I had an anti-virus after all so I felt safe. But the kicker came when my monthly credit card statement arrived in my email. The amount looked correct. I wasn't immediately concerned. But when I attempted to log in I was informed I needed to change my password. However instead of just the last 4 digits of my SS & card no. they wanted all!

I believed that I was dealing with my C.C. co. so like a fool I gave it! Then I was informed they had no record of me as a client. I've had this card for over 20 yrs and use it to pay bills. To say the least now I was alarmed!

I called the 800 no. on the back of the card repeatedly and kept getting some woman on a recorded line trying to sell me a medical alert bracelet asking "Can you hear me?" -- I've been warned this is a scam and hung up each time.

Fortunately I was able to contact my C.C. co. thru another site. We went to the email and suddenly my computer mouse took on a life of its own! I found myself struggling for control of it. Later I learned this was not my imagination! Thankfully my card was cancelled and a new one issued.

My tech man made an emergency trip over here. He went thru everything and we changed passwords. He told me he didn't think I was hacked. "It's impossible to hack a landline," he said. But this is untrue.

I wrote on Facebook I suspected that I was hacked. Immediately all sorts of strangers were posting on my timeline offering aide and advice. I would like to believe all of them were pure of heart with only good intentions, but I know better. I looked at their profiles and it wouldn't surprise me if they all had prison records. Every single one I blocked. Even if they'd had the faces of angels I would never have trusted them.

Then I Googled: How to tell if you've been hacked. As I'm reading I'm checking off all the boxes in my head. I WAS HACKED!!!

Now I was part of a club. Two dear friends of mine were also hacked, one recently. They pointed me in the right direction to a tech service here in Vero that specializes in dealing with hackers. The service came and picked up my computer. And thru my friend Sue I got a better qualified tech man. We sat down and changed my passwords again.

Also I went thru my Facebook followers list. To my horror I discovered that every sketchy person whose friendship request I'd rejected was there along with obvious romantic scammers I'd also rejected. In the future I must remember not just to delete, but block when these appear.

Plus I found numerous strangers of questionable character, many from third world countries who had attached themselves to me like warts.

Out of nowhere a new follower appeared at the top of the page. I went to his profile. He was a young guy under the heading: Professional Hacker, no friends were listed. Why would anyone advertise themselves this way? It's tantamount to someone walking thru a public parking lot holding a sign saying: Professional Car Thief! Needless to say, I blocked him immediately.

Other millennials were among my followers as well, this was a red flag! I'm over 70 and not someone a person of that age would find particularly interesting, except for maybe what they could take from me, such as my credit card and SS numbers.

I went thru my followers list with an axe, (figuratively speaking) probably offing a number of innocent people in the process but the collateral damage was necessary.

Suddenly I was abruptly blocked from blocking and these people all needed to disappear! Fortunately I found a way. It was more time consuming but needed to be done. Anyway this whole ordeal had proved costly in both time and money.

If I ran the world all hackers would die (literally) slowly and painfully as possible. These people are human scum!

FICTION, FANTASY, & REALITY

 

Back in junior college someone gave me the novel HAWAII to read claiming it was the best ever. I was excited to read it! However try as I might I just couldn't get into it. Many times as I sat reading a stranger would come up proclaiming it was by far the best novel they'd ever read.

Always I was tempted to reply, "This one, really?" I was bored out of my skull by that book! To me it was just one uninteresting story after another.

I'm not saying HAWAII isn't a great novel, it just wasn't to me. I've never been a big fan of fiction. It's fun to write but I don't like to read it. Plus everything is subjective. This isn't a one size fits all world!

Finally I decided I'd wasted enough of my life on it. I threw it aside never to return. By this time I'd left school and gone to work for my father. As to the person who lent it to me, we had a falling out that had been building for a long time.

One day I came across this book in a drawer and mailed it back to her without a note enclosed and probably too much postage.

The part of the novel where I stopped was the chapter in which the swashbuckling sea captain is heading for Hawaii planning to steal the minister's wife and claim her for his own.

Others have asked, "Weren't you curious?"

No, I didn't care! Geez, these weren't even real people! They were fictional characters!

A couple decades ago a World War II movie was released that depicted graphic re-enactments of the D-Day invasion. Some movie goers were sickened by the violent scenes. I went to see this film for myself. After viewing so many horror movies with people being ripped apart and eaten alive by zombies the sight of a soldier carrying his severed arm seemed tame to me.

Yes, I know one happened for real and was probably much worse than depicted and the other was just someone's dark fantasy. Yet, watching both up on screen it was all just play acting to me.

As a novelist myself I've come up with ways to create characters that are genuine to me. Often I use composites of people I've actually known. I'm familiar enough with their personalities to predict how they would behave in different situations. 

As I sit down to write I can easily toss them into a story and slip in and out of their skin. Often while sitting at my dinner table eating I'll hear one of my characters shouting, sometimes swearing at me, "You need to rewrite that part! I would never do that!"

And I reply, "Yes you would, I know you too well. Cuss at me one more time and I'm going to kill you off! I'm going to laugh while I'm doing it!"

THE SUMMER SCROUNGE

 

Guess I'm spoiled, whether its movies or TV shows I reached the point where I refuse to watch reruns unless they are so old I can't remember them! I want something new every time. So far, there's only been a handful of decent summer replacement shows.

I enjoy America Has Talent but I fast forward thru half of it. I'm uninterested in anyone's background or sob story! I just want to be entertained. Also the title of the show needs to be changed! It should be called: Our World Has Talent since many of the contestants are from other parts of the globe plus none of the 4 judges come from the United States.

Speaking of sob stories I know I'm at a big disadvantage because I'm unable to stream. My TV is an older model and not set up for this. But since the contraption still works just fine I don't want to junk it. Plus I'd need to pay someone to come over and teach me how streaming works. Remember I'm someone who has never owned a cellphone.

Growing up back in the days of 5 TV channels and cheap gas my family would hop in the car and go for rides during summer evenings. Also we played board games or cards. Later when we moved into the city limits we'd go on long walks.

Eventually cable came along and WOW we were now receiving 12 channels, plus not a one was snowy!

Often an entire summer was spent watching old comedies from the 1950's that I was too young to remember such as Private Secretary, I Married Joan, & The Jack Benny Show. These were far superior to the sitcoms of today!

Other summers we watched Britcoms on PBS. Fawlty Towers was a favorite along with Are You Being Served.

Also I did lots of reading!

AMC (American Movie Classic) was once true to its name and we spent many a summer enjoying old films that were new to me. Then mogul Ted Turner bought it taking all the best old films to TCM. This was a higher cable tier that father refused to pay for.

I lost my Starz-Showtime package which used to get me thru the summer when ATT merged with Time/Warner and the price skyrocketed. I still have 200 channels but they're either rife with reruns or junk that doesn't interest me.

And I can't read nights anymore due to impaired vision from posterior vitreous detachment so the scrounge continues.

I live for those rare free HBO weekends! Always I kick them off with a celebration of pizza (frozen not delivered) and ice cream (the expensive kind with the sneaky hidden elevated bottom tricking you into thinking you're getting more) but this is just an occasional treat.

Mid-September when the new TV season starts I'll have plenty to watch and no need to scrounge.

CALIFORNIA VS FLORIDA

 

Growing up I asked my father why he didn't choose to move our family to California rather than Florida. California looks so beautiful and appealing on TV and in the movies.

Dad was stationed there in the Monterey area during WWII before being sent off to occupied Japan. He claimed he disliked it and California is nothing like on TV or in films.

I pointed out that it's a long state that stretches way up the Pacific coast and he was only exposed to one area!

We met a man from California who said it's more like two states! The northern part is quite different from the south. My father might have felt right at home up there.

However once Dad made up his mind on anything there was absolutely no reasoning with him.

Actually there was one thing about California that did impress him. He often said the Mexican women of Spanish Castilian decent were the most beautiful he had ever seen! But quickly added he would never marry one no matter how attractive because he didn't want her relatives as part of the package.

Funny, I feel the exact same way about every man I've ever dated! With marriage you rarely get just one person. It's nearly always a package deal!

I think that's the real reason my father moved us out of Michigan and down to Florida back when I was a year old baby. Probably he was eager to get away from my mother's cuckoo fanatical Pentecostal relatives; nearly all of them fell into this category.

However there was one notable exception, gangster Basil (the Owl) Banghart who ran with the Touhy gang back during the 1920's and 30's. He was quite a prolific criminal, also my mother's cousin.

On my father's side, everyone was dead except for my grandfather and he came along with us.

Florida was a completely different state when I was growing up; more laid back with lots of tropical greenery. This changed when half the state of New York moved down bringing the same rat maze they wanted to escape with them.

I've often said we should build a wall with armed guards to keep those damn New Yorkers out! They have completely ruined Florida! Nowadays much of that lush tropical greenery is concrete; especially along the coast where I live!

I remember when California was called "The Land of Fruit & Nuts." Today WE have that title! Florida is now the weirdo state! Plus we have a tendency to keep putting sociopaths and morons in office!

As for California today, it's overcrowded plus the cost of living is more obscenely expensive than ever. So now lots of Californians are moving to Florida bringing all those same problems here just as the New Yorkers before them.  Ugh!

GRANDPA & THE HORSE

 

In this age of personal computers it seems almost incredulous to me that when my grandfather was growing up the only means of transportation beyond train or ship was by horse. In fact my father had an uncle who ran away from home at age twelve to become a drummer boy for the Union Army during the Civil War.

Dad often described this uncle as unpleasant, someone outspoken with no filter. This also describes my grandfather! Gramps was a small, thin, wiry man with crust and lots of attitude. In today's vernacular Grandpa would be referred to as politically incorrect. He shocked and offended others, as did I whenever I quoted him. And this was during the late 1950's too!

However I never once heard him utter a profanity. This is surprising since his parents were tavern keepers.

But Grandpop (or Grandpoop as my mother called him) deserves credit for raising my father alone. His Irish born wife died when Dad was only seven years old. Grandpa never remarried.

I was NOT his favorite child. That would be my brother eleven years my senior. Grandpa probably considered him an extension of our father, although they were nothing alike. In his mind he seemed to consider me an extension of my mother whom he felt Dad never should have married, although my mother and I were quite dissimilar.

When I was a pre-schooler, my brother and I plus Grandpa all slept in the same large room, but in separate beds. The property must have been cursed because I recall terrifying nightmares there! During a particularly vivid and horrific one hideous demonic creatures were outside peering in our windows and clawing upon our walls to get inside.

I awoke and began bawling loudly. My grandfather hollered to shut up else he'd throw me outdoors for the remainder of the night! Just the thought petrified me! I never slept well in that house!

In 1958 when I was age seven, Dad landed the big job and we moved to that wonderful house with all the acreage as renters. There, my father fulfilled my fondest desire and bought me a horse. Grandpa had plenty of experience in this area assumed care. The horse was well treated and had plenty of acreage to run free.

I changed his name from Dynamite to Blaze.

Unfortunately due to mistreatment by the son of the previous owner he hated people. We soon discovered the horse was vicious. He did not like to be ridden and resorted to all manner of tricks to be rid of a rider. Besides bucking, one of his favorites was to rub up against high bushes that cut into our legs.

On a cloudy Saturday Dad was called into work. I was riding Blaze, he was constantly misbehaving. Thunder was rumbling, a bad storm was heading our way. My grandfather broke a switch from a nearby mango tree. However this animal had a temperament equal to his.

Each time Grandpa struck the horse he reared high. I hung on tight for dear life as lightning crashed overhead! I begged my grandfather to let me off the horse. He screamed back at me to stay on!

My mother stood there also pleading with him. "You're going to get her killed!" she hollered.

Finally I seized my chance! Quickly I jumped down and raced to the back door! My grandfather was shrieking at me, "Get back here!"

Once inside I felt safe and breathed a sigh of relief. Later my grandfather entered soaking wet and red eyed. Enraged he hurled insults at me one right after another! I felt worthless, plus he hated me now! I was convinced of that!

When my father learned of this he made it clear that henceforth I was forbidden to ride the horse by myself. I was still allowed to ride double with Sharla who was four years older. But even with her professional riding lessons Sharla often had difficulty controlling the horse.

One summer afternoon when my grandfather and I were alone, Sharla came for a horseback ride. Grandpa saddled him up. The two of us were atop Blaze only a short while before he began misbehaving. Grandpa reached for a mango switch and ordered us down. He mounted the horse himself.

We watched as Grandpa rode by on the opposite side of the long pond in the back. Soon the horse began acting up again. After being hit repeatedly with the switch Blaze started bucking wildly. Grandpa was thrown!

 Sharla and I looked on, waiting for him to get up. But he didn't, he remained motionless on the ground. We feared Grandpa was dead! Sharla phoned her mother who had served as a military nurse during WWII.

She told us to stay back. As she approached Grandpa he started to regain consciousness. Grandpop was shaken, but otherwise okay.

Suddenly our rent was raised significantly, so my parents decided to move. They purchased a home within the city limits and Blaze was sold. To this day I miss that sprawling house with all the acreage!

A lifelong chain smoker of both cigarettes & cigars Grandpa died of lung cancer when I was in fifth grade. No tears fell from me. People remarked how calm and collected I was. Perhaps because someone I expected to love and protect me always seemed too quick to toss me into harm's way.

My father often told me that had I been closer in age to my brother I would have known a different relationship with Grandpop; by the time I came along he was just too old to enjoy a grandchild. -- I doubt it would have made a difference! I was an introverted quiet child, hardly the type to annoy an old person.

About fifteen years ago as I was coming downstairs a familiar scent of cigar smoke struck my nostrils. Grandpop was the only person I've ever known who smoked those things. I suspect that in spirit he dropped in, just out of curiosity, no other reason.

RIDING DYNAMITE

 

My heart's desire, my greatest childhood fantasy materialized at age seven. Life at that time felt golden. My father had recently landed a prestigious and high paying job. We moved from Hobe Sound back up the coast to the Sailfish Capitol of the World where his new job was located.

The house we rented was a sprawling one in the middle of a hundred acres overlooking a private lake with several small ponds scattered in the back and a mango grove on one side. To me it felt like paradise!

With all that acreage there was no reason not to have a horse. That's what I kept telling my parents. I had long dreamed of one. I wanted this so badly!

My horse and I would bond instantly and become best friends. Our rides together would be serene as well as treasured memories. In my mind it was all la la rainbows in the sky fantasy.  -- Probably the way a lot of young women imagine their future marriage. 

I was beyond ecstatic when my father showed me the listing in the Miami Herald. A two year old horse was for sale and Dad announced he was buying it for me. I listened with excitement as he made the call.

Late that afternoon my entire family piled in our new Chrysler Imperial for the hours long drive to Miami. The ranch was far outside the city limits and by now it was dark, but we managed to find it. The man was waiting for us.

Of course we wanted to see the horse.

"Bring out Dynamite!" he yelled. -- The name alone should have been a clue.

The man explained the horse belonged to his teenage son and was being sold as punishment. The rotten kid and his equally despicable friends had ridden him with the saddle backwards. The horse was left with sores requiring ointment. I'd need to wait until those healed before I could ride, but that was okay.

The following weekend we rented a U-haul and drove down to Miami to fetch the horse.

I disliked the name Dynamite. The horse's coat, mane, & tail were all red so I renamed him Blaze. We soon learned he had a redhead's temper too! Blaze turned out to be the horse from hell!

Under our care he was treated with kindness and given special attention. Unfortunately, sometimes all the love and tenderness in the world can't undo damage already done. Blaze hated people and there was no undoing that!

After he healed, we purchased a saddle & bridle at the Farmer's Market in West Palm Beach. Eagerly I mounted him and rode, at first being led by my grandfather and then alone. But Blaze wasted no time in acting up. He did not want to be ridden. Also he was a biter as well as a bucker.

My friend Sharla four years older had taken professional riding lessons and was already an experienced horsewoman. She was at our house almost every day during the summer and on weekends. Not because she was fond of me, but because I owned a horse and she didn't. I rode double with her.

Blaze had this habit of brushing up against bushes and low trees forcing us to lift our feet & legs to avoid being cut or scratched. When this happened my grandfather would come over with a switch.

One summer day while we were racing around Blaze made a swift sharp turn darting under a low hanging branch. Suddenly I found myself on the ground with Sharla atop me. Fortunately she grabbed the branch just in time otherwise we would have been killed or at least seriously injured!

Blaze's antics proved so dangerous that I was forbidden from riding him alone. When Sharla wasn't around I'd ride seated behind either my dad or grandfather.

Once when Blaze was being particularly obstinate Grandpa ordered Sharla and me off and mounted the horse himself. He was thrown and left unconscious. Sharla and I were there alone. But that's a memory for another blog post.

Another time Blaze attempted to trample our dog to death and even kicked-in a plate glass picture window! Florida is part of the Bible belt. A few acquaintances declared our horse demon possessed and vowed to pray for him.

In retrospect, I'm pissed at the man who sold him to us! He knew the horse was a gift for a seven year old whose experience with equines was limited mostly to pony rides at carnivals. An ethical person would have refused, with words to the effect, "I cannot in good conscience sell you a horse totally unsuitable for a small child. Find her a gentle pony that won't attempt to do bodily harm at every opportunity."

Instead, he told me, "Honey, stroke his face and speak sweetly to him every day." -- Neglecting to inform me the horse bit and the opposite end kicked!

However I do have a handful of fond memories with Blaze. Nearly every Sunday afternoon I'd hold tight to my father as we ventured thru the wilderness beyond our property. Often we'd end up on a dirt street in Port Salerno, then a small fishing village. People came out of their houses to see us and walk along side.

I felt so proud!

But one afternoon when I returned from school I discovered Blaze gone.

As I stated earlier, we were renters. After the owner discovered we'd brought a horse onto his property our rent was raised dramatically. My parents were angry and decided the time had come to finally purchase a home. They selected one within the city limits on the St. Lucie River.

I was informed my horse had been sold to a family named Lord. Later, Mr. Lord told my father he was training Blaze to become a jumper and was having difficulty keeping him away from the fillies.

Blaze was in a better place as far as we were concerned.

I was telling a friend (a Sunday school regular) in my third grade class of our recent move.

"What happened to your horse, Blaze?" she was anxious to know.

"He's at the Lord's now," I told her.

"Oh poor Blaze," she replied, clasping a hand to her cheek. "When did he die?"