Did you get my notice?

A stranger to my ears and what a rude way to start a phone conversation. Another scammer, no doubt whose goal was creating a false sense of urgency. Didn’t I know I owed them (whose them?) money.

 If I failed to act, then terrible things would happen. What notice? I wondered. But I know better than to release my personal information or relinquish my good judgment over the phone. Best hang up.

Every day, phony phone calls. Swindles, sales pitches, and scams. Bad actors outweigh the good guys. Pledge to our charity. Renew your membership. Subscribe to our service. Receive free estimates on windows, doors, driveways.

My polite mother lost her patience. Too many interruptions.  Every. Single. Day. She took my husband’s advice and started demanding these nuisance callers put her on the “Do Not Call List.” For good measure, she added, “Never call her again.”

The strategy stopped sales calls. She felt proud of her defiant stance. Pleased with the sounds of silence. Soon after, my husband called her. I overheard him say, “Mom, it’s me! Don’t hang up!” He may have had to call back twice before she realized who he was family. We still laugh about the case of the mistaken identity.   

 Most days, I heed the warning “Potential Scam” that pops up on my mobile and let the phone ring. Sometimes I answer even if an “Unknown Number” message appears with a familiar area code. Taking the chance, I answered. “Hello!” (In a normal way to avoid embarrassing myself if they were legit.)  

“Hello! This is Lindsey,” she said. Her cheery voice and upbeat tone made me suspicious. Plus, I didn’t know anyone who goes by Lindsey. Surprisingly, the line is silent. No noisy chattering in the background, the trademark of a call center.

She continued, “I’m from Columbia Center for Urban Agriculture.” CCUA, was a nonprofit I admired because their programs teach people lifeline skills in home gardening, agriculture, and cooking. CCUA also provides fresh veggies and fruits for those in need.

  “Ah, I didn’t expect a real person because usually, I get voicemail. I’m calling to thank you for your support, not to ask for a donation today,” she said, sounding flustered.  

“Thank you for your work. I enjoy reading your newsletter,” I said.

I appreciated her reaching out—a rare call from an actual human who wanted only to thank me.  

Huge High Five! for All the Dads

Dr. Ralph V. Wimp 

   

 Dad and I emailed each other daily about current news or past historic events, family and friends, and ordinary things. My dad’s signature sign-off was your earthly father, which made me smile. If his computer wasn’t working, he’d call me because he didn’t want me to worry about him. After he died, I kept writing to him—my earthly father who now lives in heaven.

    He showed me what humor sounded like. At my retirement party, my manager said she learned to appreciate my quirky sense of humor. I considered her comment a compliment. Thanks Dad.

    Dad also showed me what happiness felt like— freedom to map out my life.

“You can be anything you want when you grow up,” he said.

    I was probably 11 or 12 years old, but realized he believed in me. My career was my choice, with unlimited possibilities.

    Dad showed a genuine interest in my work. He was curious about how I was getting along. When I shared my stories of challenging co-workers, bad bosses, or temperamental team members, he shared how he coped with similar situations. One piece of his advice I followed: write my feelings about a particular person, then tear up the piece of paper. Just let it go!

My first driving lesson. 

    He was such an easy-going, not the person who held grudges, called in debts, or wanted to get even. I wanted to model his behavior for he was kind and generous to everyone. I appreciated his patience. (He taught me how to drive!) 

     A soft-spoken man who rarely raised his voice. His calm demeanor instilled confidence in his patients. Dad left his thriving family medical practice to work at the State Hospital. The position allowed him regular hours and more time at home.

    “He didn’t want to miss seeing you and your brother grow up,” Mom said.

    In his long career as a doctor at the State Hospital, I don’t recall him calling out sick. He was immune to illness; I supposed. He enjoyed work and tried but failed to retire three times. Finally, he retired at age 68, but worked another 14 years as a consultant.

    Before leaving for work, he’d give me a high five. Thwack! He slapped his palm against mine. “I’m off to save lives and stamp out disease!” He left before 8 a.m., came home on his lunch break, and returned home after 5 p.m.

    Lunch was a simple fare. He liked plain food—    soup, cottage cheese, or a sandwich. However, he loved sweets – puddings, pies, or ice cream. His grandkids knew they could count on him stashing chocolate puddings in the cupboard (for them!).

    He was modest in his dress, what he drove, and our home. His car was a big old Buick with an enormous trunk to transport his garden tools and produce. He grew corn, okra, zucchini, beans, cucumbers, cantaloupe, and watermelon. He also raised all kinds of tomatoes, from Romas to heirlooms that were black not red. Most weekends, he wore his old, faded jeans and a flannel shirt. Certainly, he looked like more like a farmer than a physician. 

    Our family admired his amazing memory. He studied history and that included family history too, recalling birthdates, anniversaries, and middle names with natural ease, as if he was stating what the weather was. His own childhood was a painful memory because He was orphaned at age eight. As a boy, his fatherly role models were likely his older brothers and his scout leaders. Those scout badges (especially swimming) and his Eagle Scout were hard earned.

    Last summer, while cleaning out his garage, I found certificates, plaques, and letters he saved, including his high school diploma, US Navy commendation, medical licenses, and volunteer church work. He graduated at the top of his naval academy class in Great Lakes, then served his country from 1951 to 54 during the Korean Conflict. His exam grades from medical school were impressive (scores in the high 90s) with his highest marks in surgery, principles and practice, diagnosis, and toxicology. He also had a rapport with his patients, that I saw firsthand when I accompanied him on house calls. 

    My father’s compassion, strong work ethic, generous spirit, and sense of humor made him special and I treasured my time with him. 

    For Father’s Day, here’s a high five to you Dad and all the fathers on earth and in heaven.

Updated June 14, 2025