Then the man said, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman . . ." And the 'woman' said, "Say, what?" And God said, "Let the games begin."
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I awoke to a distressing email from my beloved mentor, former Rose Director, Carl Belz. It said something to the effect: “I left quickly for Spain and today my pocket was picked. I have no money. Could you please wire some money to…such and such a number”. The email was sent to a large number of Carl’s many devoted friends, his entire email contact list. He knew everyone in the art world and far beyond. I responded that of course I’d help in any way that I could.

Then I paused and thought logically for a moment. Carl didn’t travel on the spur of the moment. His health was precarious. Though a former star basketball player at Princeton, and semi-pro player, those days were long behind him. He had leg and circulation problems for years and had had his lower left leg amputated a few years back. He didn’t just up and suddenly go to Spain. He and his wife Barbara were also babysitting his young grandson much of the time. No, this was not the Carl I knew.

I called him. “I’ve been hacked, Betsy! What a nightmare! They got my entire email list and it is linked to Facebook. I have to freeze everything and start all over. DO NOT respond to anything and DON’T send money!”

Former NBA star and former Senator Bill Bradley came to Princeton just after Carl graduated, while Carl worked on his PhD there and played semi-pro ball to earn money. They were practice partners on the court and became great friends. The former senator was traveling when the email came through, but one of his staffers saw the early morning message and did send money. Others were fooled as well; how many, I don’t know. I am glad I hesitated for a moment and called. Otherwise my first instinct would have been to come to the aid of my dear friend.

These days, Facebook Messenger seems full of hackers. Almost every other day I get some weird video that clearly is insidious. Weeks ago, I looked up how to delete these messages and just do it now without giving it a second thought. I NEVER open anything that looks suspicious. A troubling one came through a few weeks ago. It was a video headed by my Facebook avatar. It claimed to have been viewed over a 1,000 times. It was sent by a high school friend who asked if I had created it. I told him I had not. He had been hacked, but I feared, somehow, that I had been too, so I spent the better part of an hour changing my FB password on all my devices (computer, iPhone, iPad, then had to make sure that all log-ins matched up…what a pain). I know people who won’t use Messenger anymore because it is so easily hacked. Facebook is a market place for hackers and bots. Reading some of the replies on political comments can be infuriating until one realizes that Russians are still being paid to plant discord, so just don’t engage. It isn’t worth the elevated blood pressure.

I’ve had migraines for decades and been treated by neurologists for years. I am on a consistent regime of several different medications that keep the worst symptoms at bay. About 10 years ago, my doctor suggested using Botox injections as well, a well-established treatment.  I truly can’t tolerate them in my forehead (too bad, I could get insurance to pay for that youthful appearance), but do get quarterly injections in the back of my head. Underneath all that hair, the back of my head must look years younger! Insurance dictates that I order the medicine from a specific specialty pharmacy (I don’t even know where it is, I just call). They call my doctor’s office to confirm I really have an appointment, then ship the Botox to the doctor’s office a few days before my next appointment.

Or that’s what is supposed to happen. I have to follow up at each step. There have been times when steps have been missed and two days before my appointment, the office has called and said the Botox isn’t there.  (One summer I was coming off the Vineyard specifically for the appointment; ferry tickets are hard to come by in summer months and difficult to rearrange. The lab, for some reason takes about two days to process the request, they had to FedEx my Botox to the doctor and it still wasn’t there in time for my morning appointment. My neurologist used a different patient’s medication, knowing that mine would be there before the other patient needed his!)

I wish I could tell you this all runs smoothly. As you see, it does not. Sometimes they call me to try to schedule the next delivery (usually when I am driving and can’t really talk, as they never have all the information that should already be in their records; I’ve asked them to stop that). I have a note in my calendar to begin the process about a month before my scheduled appointment. But one day in the summer of 2018, I had a message from Accredo, the specialty pharmacy, on my cell phone, asking me to call. When I called back, a woman with an Indian accent answered. She said she was calling to thank me for being such a good client. I found this hard to believe, as my insurance company made me use this company. Both my doctor and I truly hate this company and would gladly go elsewhere if I could. She went on to say she’d like to offer me a $100 gift card that I could use at a store like Target, or someplace similar, as a way of saying thank you. I was wary. Why would a pharmacy be doing that? But she insisted that she was legit and didn’t ask for any personal information from me. She knew my name and phone number already. So, after a bit more hassle, I said OK, though (and I don’t mean to sound like a snob), I rarely shop at Target. The closest one is about a half hour away. It just isn’t convenient. Then the scam began. She asked for the number of a gift card I might have that had some remaining value on it. I told her I didn’t have any. No? She got flustered. She asked again…any card of value; not a credit card, just something that had some cash value to it.

Now I was annoyed. I told her I didn’t want her $100 card and didn’t shop at Target. And she yelled at me! Here I had MADE her do all that work and I wouldn’t even accept her gift! Whew! Trying to guilt me when I didn’t want the scam she was offering. Forget it! She finally gave up and said her manager still wanted to thank me. She was going to transfer me to him, but if we got disconnected, his number was 1-800-555-1212. Good Lord! Now I knew it was a scam. That is the phone number everyone gives on TV for every joke company. Of course we got disconnected.

It was late in the day, but I thought about it all night. I was really troubled by the call. These scammers had my phone number, had phished the real number of Accredo and given me a tough time on the phone. Of course, I gave as good as I got, but I decided to call Accredo the next day. I called from my land line so I could play the voice mail from my cell phone. The first person I spoke with was just a regular clerk who would take my order. I told my tale. She was baffled and put me through to her manager who was very concerned, listened intently to my call and took all the information to pass along to their security experts.

I never heard anything back from them, but no one from “Accredo” has ever tried to offer me a thank you gift card again either. These scammers pop up like weeds. We need to be suspicious of all. Never give anyone personal information.

Danny‘s beloved 2004 T-bird,  slightly scratched 

Fender Bender

When my husband Danny turned 60 he bought himself a birthday present – a light green Ford Thunderbird convertible.  Needless to say he loved that car,  and although I’d always thought of cars as basic transportation,  I must confess I loved that T-bird too!

At first Danny was hesitant to let me get behind the wheel,  but we have a second car so in fact I don’t drive the T-bird very often.  But one recent, fateful day I had to transport some stuff across town and my car was in the shop so I took his.  Unfortunately on the way home I made a sharp – or rather a too sharp – right turn and side-swiped another car.

We both got out of our cars,  and as the other driver walked towards me I threw up my hands in supplication and wailed,  “My husband will kill me!”

The driver was a decent guy,  and after the police came and the paperwork was done,  I put him on the phone with Danny to play peacemaker,  but to no avail.

And although I reminded Danny that thankfully no one was hurt,  and it looked like all the car would need was a little body work,  he grumbled at me for days threatening never to let me drive his car again!

Then I reminded him of something that happened when we were first dating.  Danny didn’t have a car then and I did – a bright red Chevy Nova.  In those days the boy always took the girl home,  and so after taking me back to my folks’ house in the Bronx,  Danny made many late night trips on the subway back to Queens.

One night we made plans to see each other again the next day,  and I offered Danny my car for his ride home.  As he waved good-night and backed out of my parents’ driveway,  he side-swiped the fence.

I told him not to worry,  that thankfully no one was hurt, and it looked like all the car would need was a little body work.

“You are so sweet!”,    he told me at the time.

Funny,  but forty years later when the car was his T-bird and the driver was his wife,  he didn’t think I was so sweet!

Danny and me and the red Chevy Nova,  1968

– Dana Susan Lehrman