Hardly a day slips by without having to use a password for … well, just getting by the day.
There’s the password for getting into your computer. Checking you bank balance on-line requires another. Then Amazon and e-Bay and PayPal each have their own codes to do business.
I recently opened an account with an airline. Another password.
Numerous e-mails arrive that require a password on my end to communicate.
Not remembering the code, I usually have to hit the delete button.
The one that really drives me nuts has to do with my medical provider. A message arrives stating that important medical information requires my immediate attention. But I can never get to that info and have to use the land-line phone to call Modesto.
In addition, I’m sometimes asked my mother’s maiden name, or my father’s middle name.
What do they have to do with it?
And the other day I was asked to answer this question: “What was your favorite cuddly toy?” At my age, how the heck am I to remember that?
One time I requested YTFIWS or SWIFTY spelled backwards. That password had already been taken. Really? Really!
Recently I’ve attempted to boil things down to one password. Most of the time that can’t be done. Some require a number and six letters. Others eight letters and no numbers. Still others want letters, numbers and signs.
I realize that passwords are meant to provide security. Mine don’t. Those that I can remember are now taped to my monitor where anyone can read them. I have no other choice.
And I still can’t get at that important medical info.
IT DIDN’T SURVIVE
You may remember the cell phone at our house (certainly not mine!) that recently ran through the laundry. The one I found drying out in a bag of rice.
It expired. It also ruined a perfectly good bag of rice, but then you know that cell phones do those kinds of things.
It did end up clean.
ADD ONE MORE
And then there’s Walter Luiz – retired military, longtime Pattersonite, avid player of the football contest in this newspaper, a fellow Lion, and a good friend of mine.
He’s also turned 90, hitting that milestone last Friday, May 2. Walt ups our count on the 90-plus list to 78. Keep ’em coming.
Is it the water? Nah, doubt it.
I’ve often wondered – I really have – why there aren’t blonde jokes about men.
Then, just the other day, a local punster, actually a woman, sent me such jokes about the male gender. Here’s one of them.
A blonde man spies a letter lying on the sidewalk. It says on the envelope, DO NOT BEND. He spends the next two hours trying to figure out now to pick it up.
Funny – but of course sexist.
FOR THE SPORT FAN
Mr. Sterling, the ill-famed soon-to-be ex-owner of the LA Clippers, certainly received overnight name recognition last week. Before then, most of us had never heard of the guy.
He justifiably will lose the Clippers, many of his friends, probably his girlfriend, maybe his wife too, but he certainly won’t starve.
Yes, the Apricot Fiesta is just around the corner, so it’s time for a reminder to clean up around town.
We start with our annual suggestion to return all shopping carts from yards, alleys, street corners, and along Highway 33. Someone visitor might think he was in south Modesto.
Ron Swift is the editor/publisher emeritus of the Patterson Irrigator. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.