March 28, 2007

Jeeper Creeper

We're selling the Concorde in The Auto Trader. The last time I sold a car in The Auto Trader, it sold in 12 hours. That time, the ad was posted at midnight and I had cash from the buyer by noon. That car was a beater. This one's not.

I almost had the car sold before the ad was even posted. Once the ad was on the site and in the 'zine, the phone calls began. One call in particular creeped me out. I answered his questions about the vehicle and asked when he wanted to see it.
"Is the car at your home, at..." he stated my address.

I hadn't given him my address. I paused. He said that he had done a Reverse Look Up on my phone number and that's how he knew my address. He also had directions to the house, courtesy of Mapquest. For all I know, he was already looking at the car using the internet and Google Maps - Satellite. OK, you can't see the driveway on the satellite shot, but it's creepy.

Reverse Look Up gets its information from the telephone directory. As long as our phone number is published in the local book, our number is available to be Reversely-Looked-Up. Even if we requested an unlisted number, our number would still be available on the Reverse site. It's only if we change our status to unpublished that we could be excluded from their database, sometime in the next 3-6 months.

I did a Reverse Look Up on our telephone number, which is silly, because I know where I live. Then I clicked on the 'Find Your Neighbors' option, which, is also silly, because I already know our neighbors. The displayed results did not include our neighbors. It listed people who live on our street, but not the families who are really our neighbors. Which is odder, considering neither of our neighbors has an unpublished telephone number.

Imagine if I chose one of my new-found neighbors and knocked on his front door, (or maybe I should go to the side door? We're neighbors, after all.) and asked him to water our plants while we're away. Then I could explain that I found out he was my neighbor from Reverse Look Up on the internet. Then he could go to his computer and do a reverse look up and find some of his neighbors...

It's like that one Auto-Creeper set in motion a new version of Pay it Forward.

This version encourages Random Acts of Oddness, instead.

A neighbor is someone who can get to your house in less than a minute, and takes 2 hours to get back home. - O. A. Battista


      
   

March 20, 2007

Apple Pie Order

Nobody can tell a story the way my Uncle Angelo can. Recently, he related the following story. I hope I have done it justice.

In 1953, a strapping high school graduate named Angelo Pellegata, left his hometown of Detroit, Michigan to attend Adams State College in Colorado.

Angelo had offers to play football from some Big 10 schools, including Michigan and Michigan State. But it was Adams State College that courted him best. It was clear they wanted him. He wore # 48 for the Grizzlies.

Angelo was the Freshman Class Representative at Adams. This is a position of some prestige. In the fall of his freshman year, Margaret Mundy invited him to be her guest at the Sadie Hawkins Dance. Angelo thought it would be a white tie affair and was impeccably dressed in his finest suit. Off to the dance they went.

Upon their arrival, Angelo was surprised to see that dungarees was the dress code. He was the only student dressed formally. This did not dissuade him from entertaining his date and the other students. Uncle Angelo has a good time wherever he goes.

Partway through the evening, the emcee called 4 young men to the front of the hall. Angelo was among Gino, Donny and Tom, three upperclassmen. They were seated behind a table, facing the crowd. The emcee announced that a pie-eating contest was about to commence. The students gathered around to watch and cheer on the participants.

You have to understand that Angelo is a competitor. Today, at 70, he says: "I'm a better football player than Carl or Kenneth or Dean." These are his children. Adults now, they are tremendous athletes. Each of the Pellegata boys has played football at elite levels: from City Championships through State Finals and a few NCAA National Championship games.

Back to the story:
As the only freshman at the pie-eating table, Angelo felt he owed it to his class to eat more pies than the others in this contest. He knew he could do it.

Several pies were laid out before him. A blindfold was carefully placed over his eyes. "Go," the emcee roared to start the competition. Angelo dug in. Using his hands, he shovelled through the first pie. Then another. Then another. Even now, he describes the pies as "very tasty". He managed to eat some of the pies, wore some, and dropped some more. It wasn't important. What mattered was getting through more pies than Gino and Tom and Donny.

Angelo could hear the students cheering. "C'mon, Gino," someone yelled. "You've almost got him, Tom," hollered another student. Angelo, determined to win, dug into his fourth pie. The emcee called out, "Stop!".

The crowd was roaring its approval. Sure of his victory, Angelo slid the blindfold off his head...

..and discovered that he was alone at the table. The only one wolfing down the pies!

The whole thing was a set up. Gino, Donny and Tom had conspired against him. Margaret Mundy had been in on it the entire time. He could have lost his cool over the prank, but he didn't. Angelo could take it. And he could give it, too.

Uncle Ange always gets even. I have a strong suspicion Donny, Gino and Tom got their just desserts. Well, maybe not Tom.

Photo top right: Angelo Pellegata, 1953, from
The Conquistador (ASC Yearbook)

Photo at left: Angelo Pellegata, March 2007.

Photo credit: Michelle Henderson

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March 10, 2007

Justly Compelled

I'm reading a book about enlightened living. Get over your surprise on that one. I usually keep 2 books on the go - one upstairs and one downstairs. It's something to do when I'm infusing.

I try to live an enlightened life. I'm not talking about zen-meditation. To me, it's about accepting the challenges you face and overcoming them by facing them. It's deeper than that, but respecting the power of challenges is a cornerstone.

The author states the more enlightened you are in life, the more compulsive you are. My first thought was Wow! I know some incredibly enlightened people! The more I considered it, the more I believe that the author's statement is incorrect.

An enlightened life is about acceptance, not control; sustaining a ubiquitous higher level of awareness; reacting with solutions. Believe in the good, see the good, do the good, be the good. Not good versus evil, but goodness. Decency.

Compulsions are acts that are beyond one's control; but one does not necessarily accept them. In fact, a good compulsion should be deniable. For instance, I did not notice that this posting, so far, contains every letter of the alphabet save the letter 'x'.

So, I have to disagree with Shambhala. I believe that as one achieves enlightenment, he would more easily recognize compulsive behavior. Once identified, he would modify his response to the compulsion. I suppose then, it's possible to eliminate the acquired reflex altogether.

Whew! That feels better. Setting this straight has satisfied my neurotic need for accuracy.

Warning: Reviewing the post, looking for the usage of 'x' is compulsive behavior.

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March 01, 2007

Saying Goodbye

It's been at least 10 years since we first met. I knew in an instant that it was a heaven-sent match.

Over these past few years things have been different. You noticed it too. We've grown apart. Lately when I saw you, I was filled with such guilt that I had passed you by, without a glance.

I warmly remember the comfort you gave, unconditionally. The patience you reminded me to have. And hope. When we were together, it was easy to believe that anything was possible. A hug from you around my waist bestowed upon me great strength.

I will miss you, dear friend. You have provided an abundance of memories. It's time for me to heed the advice from so many and move on.

Today, with sadness, I discarded my favorite jeans in the universe.

I'll be OK.

Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened. - Dr. Seuss (1904-1991)

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