DON’T CALL ME OLD, YET ‘CAUSE I AIN’T COURAGEOUS

         As I approach my 95^th birthday, I am coming to grips with the fact that I’m getting old.

         Keep in mind that I still walk a mile or so daily, attend concerts, read books, participate in learning in retirement sessions, explore new places. And still drive a car, which frees me from spending my waking hours watching TV, taking naps and playing bingo.

         I know how fortunate I may be on the mobility side because I live in a retirement home, which is a misnomer for what should be referred to as a Last-Stop Manor.

         Frankly, I hate this “growing old” chapter of my life because it sounds so final. I have enjoyed life’s journey, and I’m reluctant to acknowledge that it may end in a year or two, or three or more.

         As an inmate in such an institution I quickly become friends with other “seniors” as they move about with the help of canes, crutches, scooters and wheelchairs. Nice folks. Only they too often fall, which requires a call to the fire department for help to right themselves again. And they too often disappear never to return—except in an obituary.

         I’ve spent my life among young people, including four children, eight grandchildren and thus far 15 great-grandchildren. That doesn’t include a few hundred young people who attended classes I taught at three universities and people I met while sticking my nose in other people’s business as a journalist.

         So, how did I end up in this deathly condition?

         Frankly, I have ignored answering such a question.

         That is, until friends began congratulating me for surviving so many years and questioning why I refuse to act my age.

         I decided to come clean and to confess that I am among the “elderly” after reading a section of a book written by Usrula K. Le Guin when she was 87.

         Today, this Oregonian is nearly as old as I am. So, she certainly knows as much about life as I do. She’s also been a much more successful writer than I have been.

         So, I paid attention to what she wrote about aging in her book, “No Time to Spare,” which was published in 2017. She wrote:

         “I think the tradition of respecting age in itself has some justification. Just coping with daily life, doing stuff that was always so easy you didn’t notice it, gets harder in old age, till it may take real courage to do it at all. Old age generally involves pain and danger and inevitably ends in death. The acceptance of that takes courage. Courage deserves respect.”

         After reading this section of the book, I decided to come clean and to acknowledge that I know a lot of courageous folks, but I ain’t one of them — yet.

         I may end up being wheeled around in a chair, eating with soup dribbling down my chin and wearing hearing aids.

         But that doesn’t make me old.

         Not as long as I can drive a car.

‘YOU’VE BEEN HACKED’ CREATES BIT OF STRESS

         When the computer was turned on, a message on the screen suggested that my wife call a phone number to access the support system.

         “Your bank account has been hacked,” she was told after making the call. The speaker reported the account balance correctly and urged that the money be withdrawn and picked up in “bit coins” a few blocks away before the bank opened at 9:30 a.m.

         Urgent action was the siren call.

         “Why not close the account?” she suggested. “We’ll reactivate the account later in the day with a new password?”

         Gotta act now, the person on the phone replied.  Travel a few blocks from our home, check in there and withdraw the money in bit currency before the Chinese hacker makes the transfer at 9:30 a.m.

         “Where is the headquarters of our bank located?” the telephone caller was asked.

         “Washington,” the source replied.

         Bingo.

         Wrong answer. Should have been Eugene.

         Meanwhile, I moved to my computer, found the 24-hour telephone number of our local bank, called and soon talked to a bank representative who closed the account and set up an interview with a bank representative to restore the account with a new password and debit card.

         Ironically, a city police officer made a scheduled speech, “Scam and Fraud,” a few hours later to a group of residents at a retirement home where my wife and I reside.

         “Scammers have been at it forever,” the officer said. “Package delivery scams are among the latest.” It works this way: You receive a message reporting that a package has arrived at the warehouse and cannot be delivered due to incomplete address information. Please confirm your address in the link.

         Ignore the message.

         “Scammers can impersonate e-mail contacts, texts and phone numbers,” the officer said. “This is called spoofing. Many scams try to alarm you or scare you. They can pretend to be a bank streaming service, online company or just about anything else you can think of.”

         In my wife’s case, the fact that the so-called computer service possessed the accurate amount of money in her bank account led us to believe that “immediate action” was needed to resolve the problem created by an apparent hacker.

         Fortunately, the problem was resolved with nothing more than a morning filled with stress and anxiety.

         Reminded me of what I should have learned in a Crime and Punishment class that I attended during graduate school more than a half-century ago.

         What I was told then and later was reminded of by the Eugene police officer: “If it sounds quirky or weird, it probably is.”

reader raises question: what would jesus do?

         In my previous column, I wrote about people without housing. They are referred to as “the unhoused.” A lot of time and money have been invested in providing places for the unhoused to reside in Eugene.

        I reported that a group of unhoused neighbors insisted on camping with their “filth” in an off-limits area next door to a facility housing a hundred elderly people, many of whom are in ill health. Officials eventually moved those neighbors and created a rocky environment to prevent their return.

         I suggested that if the unhoused wish to be treated as neighbors, they have an equal responsibility of citizenship.

         I believe that squares with Christ’s teaching.

         He also invited everyone to follow Him and promised that those who do will live eternally in a perfect (room) place.

Unhoused camped at unauthorized site near Eugene street intersection