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Please just follow along…

John:
I used my debit card at dinner last night, and my wife used hers at a grocery store later in the evening. This morning at breakfast, my card was denied. I went to the local ATM a few hours later to get some cash, and again, the card was denied.

I communicated on-line with one of your reps and got cards reissued
(yes, my wife\’s card was no longer active). The rep (\”Desmond\”, if
that\’s of any matter), informed me that there was no indication that
there were debit cards associated with the account.

I can understand if the magnetic stripe gets damaged the card won\’t
work, but I do not understand how your system can \”forget\” that we have debit cards. My sister, who also banks with BoA, claims this same thing has happened to her three times in the past two months.

Can you provide an explanation for how your system can \”forget\” that I
have a debit card? That would seem to me that an incorrect database
update occurred, and I don\’t know how that can happen in this day and age.

Thanks for any information you can provide.
<------------------------------------------------>
Harley:
Dear John A. Griswold,

Thank you for your inquiry dated 8/8/09 regarding the debit card. We
will be happy to assist you.

We understand your concern about the debit card. Allow us to apologize for any inconvenience that you may have experienced in this matter.

However, Please be informed that at your request, we are sending you a new debit card ending in – ****. You should receive your card on 8/17/09 through U.S. Mail. The card is being sent to the following address:

34 Cambridge St
Ayer MA 01432-1361

If the mailing information is incorrect, please provide us with an
updated address to which the card should be mailed and we will update
our records. The card mailed to the incorrect address will be cancelled
and a new card will be sent. Please remember to activate your new debit card at any Bank of America ATM by using the new PIN , which is being mailed to you separately.

You may now activate your new debit card in Online Banking. Just click
on debit card settings located in the Checking and Savings section on
the Customer Service tab and complete the information requested.

For your reference, to find the banking center nearest you, please use
the ATM and Banking Center locator on the Bank of America Web page at www.bankofamerica.com. It is located on the lower left hand side of the page.

Please remember, Bank of America offers Total Security Protection. This
service is free and automatically available for all Bank of America
consumer credit cards and debit cards. It features zero liability if
your card is lost or stolen. For extended information on this service,
please visit (some web link)

For more information regarding the old debit card ending in – ****, we
recommend you to contact at 1.877.833.5617. We are available twenty four hours a day and seven days a week.

We value you as a customer and appreciate your business. If we may be of further assistance, please contact us again by e-mail. Thank you for choosing Bank of America.

Sincerely,

Harley K
<----------------------------------------------->
John:
Thank you for your response, but you didn\’t answer my question.

Desmont, the first agent I contacted, said that your system showed that my wife and I didn\’t even have debit cards. Yet, less than 24 hours earlier, we used them. That would indicate that sometime between 8PM on Friday and 9AM on Saturday, your system \”forgot\” that we had debit cards.

I want to know how this can happen.

Thank you again for your quick response, but I really would like to have
my question answered.

Sincerely,
John Griswold

<------------------------------------------------->

Adrian:
Dear John A. Griswold,

Thank you for your inquiry dated 8/9/09 regarding the debit card. We
will be happy to assist you.

We apologize for any confusion regarding the debit card transactions.
Our records indicate that your debit card ending in -**** was closed on 8/8/09 and a new debit card ending in -**** was issued. You should received your card within 8/17/09 at the following address:

34 Cambridge St
Ayer MA 01432-1361

Our records indicate rejections on your transactions on 8/8/09 as the
card was blocked. However, up to 8/7/09 the transactions were
successful.

Unfortunately, we cannot provide information on the debit card for your
co-owner because the owner of the debit card and the owner of this
Online ID are different. The Online ID provides you with security and
verification to perform updates on an account you own by e-mail through Online Banking.

Please have your co-owner sign in using her Online ID and send us an
e-mail requesting the updates. We will be happy to assist at that time.

We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. If we may be of further assistance, please contact us again by e-mail. We value you as a customer and appreciate your business. Thank you for choosing Bank of America.

Sincerely,

Adrian D

<------------------------------------------>

John:

Once again, thank you for your quick response to tell me that my old
debit card was rendered useless and a new card has been issued.

However, once again you have failed to answer my primary question –
Why did my card become useless? How did this happen?

There has to be an explanation.

You are doing nothing at all to convince me that Bank of America is
where I should do my banking.

Please escalate my question, along with the trail of queries and useless
responses, to a supervisor.

Sincerely,
John Griswold

<--------------------------------------->
John C:

Thank you for your inquiry dated 8/10/09 regarding the debit card. We
will be happy to assist you.

Allow us to apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced in this regard.

Our records indicate that you are listed as a Private customer.
Regrettably, we are unable to complete your request through e-mail for
security reason. In order to assist you better, we request you to us at
1.877.556.2171. We are available from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., Monday through Friday, Eastern Time.

We once again apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. If we may be of further assistance, please contact us again by e-mail. We value you as a customer and appreciate your business. Thank you for choosing Bank of America.

Sincerely,

John C

OK, I was ready to hold my tongue on this one, but Mr. Obama just pissed me off in supporting Henry Louis Gates, Jr.

The police officer investigating a report of \”a black man breaking into a house\” went to the house and found a black man inside. Said black man, when asked for ID, spouts off with \”Why, because I\’m a black man and you\’re a white police officer?\” The correct thing to do would have been to politely produce ID and explain how you\’d had difficulty getting the door open. Calling the cop a racist and mouthing off isn\’t very likely to start off a good encounter. Assuming Crowley was a racist simply because he was white is racist in and of itself. Sergeant Crowley came out to protect Gates\’s property, for Pete\’s sake, and had a half-way reasonable chance of getting shot at. Had the report been for a white man breaking in, or someone wearing a hockey mask breaking in, and Crowley found a white man or goalie inside, chances are pretty good the cop\’d ask for ID there, too! I\’m pretty sure I\’d have Tasered his ass and then asked for ID while he was still twitching.

To continue to call Crowley a racist, and to continue to mouth off is, in my estimation, a damn fine way to get your ass dragged down to the station, I don\’t care whether you\’re black, white, green or plaid.

To have the President then come on TV and remark that the Cambridge PD (the entire department?!) acted \”stupidly\” is just insulting to the Cambridge PD and to my intelligence. Watching the early news in Boston that day made it pretty clear who was acting \”stupidly\”. It was the oh-so-learned Professor Gates.

So how about showing a little respect for the Sergeant Crowley? And for that matter the rest of the Cambridge PD – and the rest of the police no matter where? You don\’t see Gates humping around a Kevlar jacket and twenty pounds of other gear all day, nor do you see Gates risking his life every day to protect the citizenry of Cambridge. No – but that cop is out there five days a week, in the heat, in the snow and the rain, standing between Gates and that part of \”society\” that is intent on taking his property and/or life.

I do think an apology is in order. Professor Gates needs to apologize to Sergeant Crowley. And he needs to introduce himself to a few of the neighbors. The 911 call that started the whole incident came from a neighbor – who apparently didn\’t know who Gates was.

And Mr. President, stay out of it.

As a post-script, President Obama called Sergeant Crowley and \”expressed regret\” for jumping to conclusions about what had happened at Professor Gates\’s house… ( http://tinyurl.com/n2brt9 )

Thank you, Mr. President for being a stand-up guy.

OK, I was ready to hold my tongue on this one, but Mr. Obama just pissed me off in supporting Henry Louis Gates, Jr.

The police officer investigating a report of \”a black man breaking into a house\” went to the house and found a black man inside. Said black man, when asked for ID, spouts off with \”Why, because I\’m a black man and you\’re a white police officer?\” The correct thing to do would have been to politely produce ID and explain how you\’d had difficulty getting the door open. Calling the cop a racist and mouthing off isn\’t very likely to start off a good encounter. Assuming Crowley was a racist simply because he was white is racist in and of itself. Sergeant Crowley came out to protect Gates\’s property, for Pete\’s sake, and had a half-way reasonable chance of getting shot at. Had the report been for a white man breaking in, or someone wearing a hockey mask breaking in, and Crowley found a white man or goalie inside, chances are pretty good the cop\’d ask for ID there, too! I\’m pretty sure I\’d have Tasered his ass and then asked for ID while he was still twitching.

To continue to call Crowley a racist, and to continue to mouth off is, in my estimation, a damn fine way to get your ass dragged down to the station, I don\’t care whether you\’re black, white, green or plaid.

To have the President then come on TV and remark that the Cambridge PD (the entire department?!) acted \”stupidly\” is just insulting to the Cambridge PD and to my intelligence. Watching the early news in Boston that day made it pretty clear who was acting \”stupidly\”. It was the oh-so-learned Professor Gates.

So how about showing a little respect for the Sergeant Crowley? And for that matter the rest of the Cambridge PD – and the rest of the police no matter where? You don\’t see Gates humping around a Kevlar jacket and twenty pounds of other gear all day, nor do you see Gates risking his life every day to protect the citizenry of Cambridge. No – but that cop is out there five days a week, in the heat, in the snow and the rain, standing between Gates and that part of \”society\” that is intent on taking his property and/or life.

I do think an apology is in order. Professor Gates needs to apologize to Sergeant Crowley. And he needs to introduce himself to a few of the neighbors. The 911 call that started the whole incident came from a neighbor – who apparently didn\’t know who Gates was.

And Mr. President, stay out of it.

As a post-script, President Obama called Sergeant Crowley and \”expressed regret\” for jumping to conclusions about what had happened at Professor Gates\’s house… ( http://tinyurl.com/n2brt9 )

Thank you, Mr. President for being a stand-up guy.

Given that Memorial Day is set aside to remember those who gave their all in defending our country, I have a deep and abiding respect for it. But I broaden my definition, as do most, to extend to remembrance of loved ones who have gone before us.

I\’d like to visit my parents\’ graves, but given that they decided to be buried in Washington County Maine, I don\’t often get to do that. So I most often, on Memorial Day, visit my grandparents\’ graves in Buckland Massachusetts. Buckland is rather a rural community. I suspect there\’s actually a town center, but where my grandparents are buried is just off of a little village common where one can find a little white New England church and a small community center.

I bring along my gardening trowel. There\’s one large headstone that merely says \”Griswold\” in large Roman letters, but there are also smaller grave markers perhaps 9\” x 16\” or so with more detailed information. These markers appear to be sinking, but in reality the earth naturally gets deeper as the vegetation grows, and eventually these markers will be swallowed, as it were, by the passage of time. I do my best to clear them up a bit with my trowel while I\’m there, which is why I bring it along now. It\’s easier on my hands.

After my duties, I kicked off my Birkenstocks and walked about barefoot in the cool grass, reflecting some, but mostly just moseying about (or nosing around – you call it) looking for interesting graves. There are a number of other Griswolds buried there, including my great-grandfather Eugene.

After just a few minutes of \”reflection\”, another car drove up to the gate. I\’d parked out on the street and walked the 100 feet or so. Two ladies older than I exited the car with a couple of trowels, a jug of water, and a couple of geraniums. The, too, were out to visit their grandparents\’, and parents\’, graves, and plant some geraniums for them. I hurried to get my sandals back on, lest I be thought disrespectful of the dead.

Those that know me well have noticed that I\’ve \”come out of my shell\” a bit over the past decade, and I\’ll actually talk to people now. I greeted these ladies, and was going to offer my assistance, but they seemed to have two flowerpots well under control. I lamely commented on the weather or something, and stated my purpose for being there, pointing to my grandfather\’s large headstone.

\”Griswold?\”, one of them said. \”Well, Gene Griswold built our house\”, referring, unknowingly, to my great-grandfather. I explained how that\’d be Gene\’s son I was there visiting. That started off a half-hour chat, them telling me that Gene was actually the crew leader, not the single-handed builder of their house (actually their father\’s house, as they were children at the time). They complimented my great-grandfather\’s abilities, and how since there was no electricity, everything had to be piece-cut by hand! Now that\’s got to be an undertaking, building a whole house with a hammer and a handsaw…

I told them the one story I have of my great-grandfather – that I remember meeting him when I was \”this high\” (which wasn\’t very high at all – Gene died when I was three). My grandfather lived in what I always considered a mansion in the next community over, and across the street was a tiny little house that my great-grandfather occupied when he wasn\’t in Florida. I remember one day my father taking me to visit his grandfather. I haven\’t been in that house in over fifty years, but I remember the kitchen entrance, and turning right into the sitting room, where my great-grandfather sat, I guess watching TV, and I remember shaking his hand. That\’s it – my one story of Great Grandpa…

They didn\’t recall my grandfather, but were likely a couple decades or so behind him in school, as they were talking about the late 30\’s or early 40\’s for the time of construction. But I accompanied them as they planted the geraniums, one between their parents\’ headstones, and one between their grandparents\’ headstones, and listened as they talked about their forebears.

They had also known my grandfather\’s cousins Jane and Roberta (or Bobbie, as we all knew her), and how the girls had grown up in the Mary Lyons house. They concurred when I mentioned that they\’d lived, up until eight or ten years ago, in the Major Joseph Griswold house in Buckland, perhaps a quarter mile away, until ill health forced them into assisted living. Jane, we surmised, was still alive, but they recalled (as I believe I do) that Bobbie passed away a few years ago.

We continued to chat as I walked them back to their car, thanked them for the nice conversation, and said I hoped to see them again next year.

Just got an email from Aunt Joann mentioning that tomorrow would have been Mom\’s 80th birthday. We still miss you, Ed.

Wasn\’t it Thomas Wolfe who penned \”You Can\’t Go Home Again\”? I think so. That point was made clear this past weekend. We\’d been out to my sister\’s house for Easter, and rather than take a direct route (moi?) home, I decided to drive through my old home town. While much of it has retained its forlorn, dog-eared early-60\’s patina, there have been notable changes.

For one thing, two of the schools I attended are no longer there! That\’s rather shattering, even though they were old, old buildings when I attended fifth and seventh grades, respectively. One was a four-room school, the other eight. As time passed, these buildings, with their high ceilings and huge, light-inviting windows, became dinosaurs to heat in the winter, and there was (believe me!) no air conditioning. So I see why they went away. The four-room building where I attended fifth grade was replaced by two homes. In the early 70\’s it had been converted into a youth center, where the miscreants of my day went to play a little pool, sneak a little beer (or pot), and wedge my mother\’s Volkswagen Beetle between a couple of telephone poles conveniently spaced about a Volkswagen and three inches apart. (I had to execute a 27-point turn to get out of that bailiwick!).

One of the homes in which I grew up, just over hill from this school, was still there (I didn\’t even look at the other this trip), but has been modified to no longer fit my recollection. In the forty-some years since we moved out of there, it\’s no wonder. My parents had converted it from a two-family to a single prior to my memories – that\’s why my brother had kitchen cabinets in his bedroom, and my sisters\’ room had French doors…
The other school was gone altogether. I had just been reminiscing about that school with a reconnected friend of the era a few weeks earlier. She lived close enough to that school where she could, and did, walk home for lunch.

As we drove out of town, I took an even further indirect route through the south side of town into another adjacent village, and saw a lot of roads that I recognized, but a number that, for some reason, I\’d never been on, or could recall. Thirty five or so years is a long distance to bridge.

You can\’t go home again.

Wasn\’t it Thomas Wolfe who penned \”You Can\’t Go Home Again\”? I think so. That point was made clear this past weekend. We\’d been out to my sister\’s house for Easter, and rather than take a direct route (moi?) home, I decided to drive through my old home town. While much of it has retained its forlorn, dog-eared early-60\’s patina, there have been notable changes.

For one thing, two of the schools I attended are no longer there! That\’s rather shattering, even though they were old, old buildings when I attended fifth and seventh grades, respectively. One was a four-room school, the other eight. As time passed, these buildings, with their high ceilings and huge, light-inviting windows, became dinosaurs to heat in the winter, and there was (believe me!) no air conditioning. So I see why they went away. The four-room building where I attended fifth grade was replaced by two homes. In the early 70\’s it had been converted into a youth center, where the miscreants of my day went to play a little pool, sneak a little beer (or pot), and wedge my mother\’s Volkswagen Beetle between a couple of telephone poles conveniently spaced about a Volkswagen and three inches apart. (I had to execute a 27-point turn to get out of that bailiwick!).

One of the homes in which I grew up, just over hill from this school, was still there (I didn\’t even look at the other this trip), but has been modified to no longer fit my recollection. In the forty-some years since we moved out of there, it\’s no wonder. My parents had converted it from a two-family to a single prior to my memories – that\’s why my brother had kitchen cabinets in his bedroom, and my sisters\’ room had French doors…
The other school was gone altogether. I had just been reminiscing about that school with a reconnected friend of the era a few weeks earlier. She lived close enough to that school where she could, and did, walk home for lunch.

As we drove out of town, I took an even further indirect route through the south side of town into another adjacent village, and saw a lot of roads that I recognized, but a number that, for some reason, I\’d never been on, or could recall. Thirty five or so years is a long distance to bridge.

You can\’t go home again.

John A. Griswold, though I don\’t think I ever heard anybody call him anything but \”Jack\” or \”Dad\”, would have been 82 years old today.

The company I work for has an active \”spam\” filter on the incoming e-mail stream, and these e-mails are pushed off into a special bucket that can be reviewed – just in case one of the e-mails turns out to be legitimate. I don\’t ordinarily bother to look, but here are some of the recent subjects that are supposed to lure me into opening the virus-infested crap:
We will have bicycle-tour!
Go downstairs now
Your IP saw on illegal sites
Admin asked you to add him
Let\’s listen to this specialist
Is that your dog on a street
About our common friend Jack
Found your card in lift, it\’s Mark
Please read
Fire near your house!
Jennifer, that girl, wants your number
I\’m headhunter, let\’s meet
Our lections scanned
Sandy will sue you
We meet stars tomorrow
I scanned all info..
E-version of documents
Your car is scratched
Hold party photos
We go to bowling
Inquiry form for mail service holders
Forgot my cell phone at home
Come to our room
Saw your wife today
Open it 1 hour later, ok?

And that was just today, though a lot of them are repeats from earlier in the week.

It\’s been a week. \”Barack Hussein Obama\” – Not quite \”Thomas Jefferson\”, nor \”Abraham Lincoln\”, nor even \”George Herbert Walker Bush\”.  But I voted for him, thinking at the time that he was the lesser of the two evils. I was a strong supporter of John McCain going in, but as time went on, I felt less and less in tune with what his message was. And I was really high on him when Sarah Palin came on board as the VP candidate. But it quickly became apparent that Sarah was a huge liability, and that alone was enough to sway me to Obama. (I\’d have been quite happy if the ticket were Biden/Obama instead, too).

And yes, I recognize the historic significance of finally getting a black man in the White House, but I don\’t care that he\’s black. Yes, it\’s symbolic of the great strides \”we\” have made as a country (and it\’s pretty damned significant that his primary competition for the candidacy was a woman!), and I appreciate that. But I don\’t expect, and really would be disappointed, if it makes any difference that President Obama is black.

I expect President Obama to be presidential, to lead, and to catalyze our nation toward getting out of this hole we\’ve managed to dig ourselves. I\’m hoping that President Obama will bring to a close the \”ME\” generation, to instill a new ethic of responsibility instead of entitlement,  and create an ethic of \”what can I do for you?\” instead of \”what can you do for me?\”.

Good luck and Godspeed, Mr. President.