Happy Halloween, Scaredy Cats!

Around the beginning of October, all the Halloween movies start crawling out of the woodwork and into the movie theaters.  I got freaked out watching some of the video trailers on television last week; they are so graphic and some of them would frighten the wits out of little children.  Can you imagine what a child would think if they got a glimpse of Freddy Krueger or the Chainsaw Massacre on a television advertisement?  Those images could leave some deep scars and sleepless nights!  

My sister and I had an experience that was chilling when I was eight and she was fourteen.  It was the weekend before Halloween and my parents had gone out to a costume party.  My sister, Libby, and I were the only ones at home and we had decided to watch The Twilight Zone (not a good choice for a child who was afraid of her own shadow; that would be me)!  

It was an episode titled, The Eye of the Beholder.  This chilling story was about a team of doctors who had completed plastic surgery on a woman’s face (the doctors implied she was born with horrifying features that only intense plastic surgery could repair).  The surgery was completed and they were preparing to unveil the woman’s face.

The doctors were hovering around her and all that was visible were the backs of their white jackets.  With creepy background music playing, I watched as the doctors unwrapped the bandages, but they were disappointed to see the surgery had not changed her appearance.  One of the doctors made the comment. “There is nothing more we can do, we’re sorry!”  At this point I was curled up in a ball next to my sister and we were smashed together in my dad’s recliner, just a few feet from the TV screen.

We hung on with suspense as the doctors hovered around the woman with their backs turned to the viewers.  Then they handed her a mirror and she screamed in horror when she saw her face.  At that moment the doctors backed away and we were surprised to see the woman was extremely beautiful!   

Then came the drama; immediately, the camera panned around the hospital room to reveal the faces of all the doctors and nurses and they were the monsters!   The surgery was an attempt to make her ugly like them, for she presumed she was the abnormal one.  I freaked out!  I wasn't prepared and it had happened so quickly that there was no time for me to hide my eyes.  Those scary faces were all over the place and every time I blinked, I saw ugly monsters!

When it was time to go to bed we decided to leave a small lamp on in our bedroom.  Fortunately for me, my sister and I shared a room together in a second story home.  Second story sounds luxurious, but I assure you that was not the case; our upstairs resembled a haunted house!   All the rooms were unfinished, which added to our anxiety.  Each time the lights from passing cars reflected off the windows, it cast spooky shadows that danced across the walls.

We had just started to drift off to sleep when we heard noises coming from downstairs.  It was a banging sound in random patterns that wouldn’t stop.  Libby and I were terrified and I had conjured up the most horrible thoughts in my mind.  I imagined everything from Booger John to Captain Hook and I even thought the Twilight Zone monster doctors were sawing on a patient in our kitchen!  I knew it was just a matter of time before “it” would find us hiding under our blankets.  

Then Libby said the unimaginable, “We have to go downstairs and find out what that is!”  

That was a terrible idea, why would she even suggest that... but I wasn’t about to stay upstairs by myself and each time she took a step forward, I took one too.  She grabbed our brother’s baseball bat that was leaning against his wall and I thought that was a brilliant thing to do, so I grabbed the closest thing I could find and it was a belt.  Libby was disgusted with my choice.

“What’re you gonna do with a belt, dress it or spank it?  At lease get something that will protect us!”  She was preparing me for battle, but my better judgment told me to hide somewhere safe until our parents got home! 

I looked around and found a board, we both agreed that was a better choice and together we crept down the stairs.   At the bottom of the staircase was a door that entered into the living room.  When Libby opened the door the noise seemed so much louder, she hesitated out of fear and I was so scared that I levitated a few inches off the ground.  I was about to run back upstairs when she gave me more instructions. 

“Hold your board up and get ready, the noise is coming from the kitchen.  Stay right behind me.”  

I was so close to her that I could feel her heart beating through mine!  If she had spooked me at any time, I probably would have hit her in the head with the board!  We walked step by step and hardly breathing, fearing the monster would hear us.  The noise was banging and clanging as we rounded the corner into the kitchen.   We had our weapons held high, but we were shocked and relieved to see that one of our little kittens had it’s head stuck in an empty Campbell's soup can.  

Apparently, the soup can had fallen off the top of the waste basket.  The kitten started licking the inside of the can and when it’s head got far enough inside, it became stuck!   The kitten was banging around blindly against our metal cabinets in the kitchen and trying to knock this Campbell’s soup can off it’s head!  It was a hilarious sight to see.  We pulled the can off the kitten’s head, washed it’s face and laughed about how scared we were through the chilling experience.  

We definitely were "Scaredy Cats" that evening!  I am still amazed at how powerful a child’s mind can become when engaged in fear.  If there was a way to harness the amount of energy exerted by my sister and I that night, it could have powered the city for several days. by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day.

“.... Come in Earthlings.”

It would be impossible to contact anyone on this planet because most of the inhabitants are already floating somewhere out there in cyberspace.  Their eyes are transfixed on computer screens while their cell phones are embedded deep inside the ear canal next to the brain!

The people of the 21 century are enslaved by cyber technology and from the neck up they are becoming computerized robots.  They have abandon their inherent physical and spiritual strengths for the mechanical beast, but not without a price to pay.  I would like to believe we are still sensitive, interactive and intelligent life forms and that we haven't substituted the uniqueness of our individual characteristics to be an Apple or a Blackberry!  

When was the last time you looked at a sunset, (excluding the one on your screen saver) had a conversation with a person face to face (not using your computer, cellphone or texting) and do you remember the last time you went for a walk with no alterier motives?  Times have changed in the last 30 years and it’s whirling around like the clocks in Alice and Wonderland.  

Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to those days when life was much simpler?  Do you remember how time dragged by when you were young? If there were 24 days until Christmas it felt like 24 light years to another planet. Everything appeared to be evolving in slow motion and in reality, I believe time was on our side.  We demanded our privacy and enjoyed our freedom... in the good old days when we were the master of our soul.

People seemed more laid back and content.  Computer technology was no where in sight and in someways we might have been a little better off without it.  We worked an 8 hour shift and not a minute later; no one wanted to pay overtime and when the work day was done, it was, “hit the road Jack!”  And your boss would never think of calling you at home after hours, unless the office building had burned down or you were fired!  It was important to keep the personal life separated from the professional life and we managed to do it without a hitch!

Resting in the palm of our hand was usually the hand of a loved one, not a cellphone.  If someone called on the home phone while preoccupied, nine times out of ten we would have said, “I am busy, take a message and I’ll call them back later.”  

Our children had fingers they used for something more productive than texting.  They playing the piano, loading the dishwasher, cleaned their rooms, took out the trash, mowed the lawn and even scratched their own heads. They also knew how to tell time on a traditional clock and count change using real dollar bills and coins; these abilities are becoming obsolete. (A few weeks ago, I had to assist a sales lady in counting my change when her digital register shut down.)  Hello, is anyone in there? 

Our society believes that computers, cellphones, iPods, Touch Pads, gadgets and widgets are the greatest innovations of all times.  We were told the computerized generation would free up precious time by allowing us to be more productive during working hours, thus providing more quality time to spend with our families or our private lives.  

Wrong Captain Cyberspace, this generation was taken prisoner in the 1970s by the Darth Vader of computerized technology and the inhabitants of Earth are being held captive according to their free will.  Earthlings now resemble zombies similar to those in the movie The Night of the Living Dead, but the facts conclude that this technology came like a thief in the night!  It crept in slowly like the body snatchers, stealing the souls of our loved ones and leaving us with someone we hardly recognize!  

All the valuable time we dreamed of spending with our families in the privacy of our homes was really just a dream. The average person spends 4 to 6 hours on the computer daily, 1440 minutes on their cellphones, and texting has surpassed all those figures.  


I was siting in the airport trying to have a moment of peace and there were several cellphone conversations going on around me at the same time, bouncing off my ear drums (which was so frustrating because everyone was trying desperately to have a conversation 50 decibels above all the others)!


The average daily work hours have increased considerably because of the cyber world in which we live. People work in airports, coffee shops, restaurants, hotels and even their automobiles.  They sacrifice their personal time and late nights at home to complete work related business.  

When cellphones first came out, I resisted getting one for years; I wanted to preserve my anonymity.  One fine day when I was at my daughters home visiting, she left me one of their cellphones while she went to run some errands.  She wasn’t gone too long when I heard it ringing somewhere in the living room.  I quickly grabbed what I thought was a cellphone, pushed the green power button and placed it to my ear.  My 9 year old grandson said, “Grandma, that’s the channel changer.” That's when I realized I was inept and had to get with the times.

Now, I have become a product of the environment and today I am striving to catch up with technology as it whirls by at the speed of sound.  As a writer, I have my computer running at least 8 to 14 hours a day and my cellphone is always next to me.  Most nights, I sleep with it by my pillow just in case there is an emergency.  A few mornings I have found the button imprints on the side of my face. 

I truly miss the days when we worked less and played more, when a control panel operated the USS Enterprise, a disk was an Unidentified Flying Object, a download was a long time in the bathroom, an upload was hitting the fridge around midnight, a floppy was a bad hair day or a worn out brassiere, a hard drive was when I wrecked my dad’s car, icons were The Beatles, Paul Newman and Elvis, the Scroll Bar was on the corner of 5th & Main Street, the server was the waitress at the Scroll Bar, a boot was what you got if your spouse caught you at the Scroll Bar, user friendly was someone with a bad reputation, a megabyte was the mistake of sharing your pizza with a big brother, and a memory was something we all had when we were young!

Time is the gift of life and must be spent wisely, it cannot be duplicated or replaced!  We cannot kill time, but time can kill us!  We are blessed to have the time to choose, the time to love and the time to live.

                                                                                         by, Linda Sumner Urza, One fine day

I want to thank everyone who has supported my blog and shared it with friends and family.  I love creative writing and enjoy sharing my bizarre experiences and craziness with others. I believe laughter is the best medicine and second best would be sharing a box of chocolates with your best friend.  Thanks everyone, you brighten my days!

In My Father’s Light.

I have had many people ask me where I found the inspiration behind the book, My Dad is Forever.  They say that it brings about deep reflections of their lives and the love they experienced with their father. It’s difficult to read without shedding a tears, but they are tears of joy and edification.  I have been told the book has a spirit of it’s own and the pages emulate the purest love between that of a father and his child.  I had a magnificent childhood and my father is the reason this book is so successful. 

My father was dedicated to his family and the most wonderful dad a little girl could dream of having. To me, he was a prince and his love overflowed into all our lives like a song from the heart.  He didn’t put work, friends, extracurricular activities or himself before his family life and I truly believed that he would be there for me forever.  To a child, their dad is invincible, they are a hero and the magnificent knight that slay the dragon underneath the bed...

I learned how to walk, run, ride a bike and navigate through the trials in life from my dad.  My mother was more reserved, but my father was a character not easily forgotten.  His stories were bigger than life and he loved everyone surrounding him.  He had the ability to make people laugh about life and feel blessed to be in his presence.  My dad made the sun shine directly on those around him; it felt warm to be in his presence.

When I was in high school my father became very ill with arteriosclerosis and his condition was life threatening.  He was not expected to survive more than a few months; although he was scheduled for surgery, the procedures were high risk.  There were three separate times my family was summoned to the hospital by my father’s doctor who told my mother, “he wasn’t expected to live through the night.”  

I was distraught by the reality of losing my father and my world began to unravel.  I didn't realized how frail and vulnerable the mind could become, until I was faced with my father's death.   It’s impossible to describe the levels of pain a child goes through when they believe a parent is leaving them behind.  Everyday becomes a nightmare, soon you are suffocating in your own fears and the sorrow is heavy, thick, and lonely.  

I didn’t want to know life without my father in it, he was the safety net and I always knew that no matter what happened out in the world, home was a much better place!  It got to the point where I couldn’t endure the pain and I was unable to comprehend how life could go on without him.  Everything eventually dies, I knew that, but not now and not him!  

It got to the point where I couldn’t concentrate in school anymore and my grades began to suffer.  I spent evenings at the hospital and my days consumed with the anxiety that this could be the last time we have together. 

I was the youngest of 9 siblings and it was obvious to me how difficult this was for everyone including my mother.  No one prepares you for something like this and I didn’t know where to go with the anger!  I wanted to cry out, but I didn’t want my mother to hear because she was already in too much pain.  Days stopped passing by, they just hovered over my head like a dark cloud and I felt detached from the world.

When I went to school, each day became more difficult and in reality, I wasn’t present.  There were times when I listened to the teacher talking, but I didn’t have the mental capacity to hear what was being said.  None of it really mattered anymore; I wasn’t emotionally, mentally or physically attached to my world.  

One day a boy in my french class was teasing me because I was unprepared with an assignment.  He taunted me relentlessly and called me an idiot!  I was too shy to say anything to anyone, so each morning as I climbed the stairs of the bus, I had two things to worry about; my father dying and someone making inconsiderate and rude comments to me in my darkest hours.  

It’s important to teach children to be kind, (it’s nice to be important but it’s more important to be nice).  One never knows what trials or tragedies others are going through in their personal life.  They may be at the edge and needing love and light from another soul to give them the strength to endure and those words spoken could either make it or break it for them.  Wouldn’t it  be a heavy burden to bare knowing that your negative comments were the last that person heard before they slipped off the edge.   

My father’s surgeries were successful and it was indeed a miracle in all our lives to have him come home and bless us with his wonderful countenance.  Every soul in this life is a light unto the world and when that light is extinguished, there is an empty space and darkness where that brilliant light once shined.  It cannot be replace by another light, for each soul has a special place to shine.  I counted the miracles in my life and I was grateful that my father would be there to warm my life once again with his love. 

I graduated from high school two years later and attended a local university in my home town.  One day I came home from school around 5:00 p.m.  My mother was working late, I prepared dinner and then went in to wake my father, whom I thought was resting.  This night would be very difficult for me as I realized my father had passed away and I was alone in our home when this experience happened.  There was not going to be a miracle for me on that day, he had slipped away quietly and unassuming, but that was his way -  never wanting to cause any more pain than necessary.   

I don’t think a child can sufficiently prepare themselves for the death of a parent.  I stood next to my father’s lifeless body and felt a part of my life slipping away with his spirit.  The faith I had in the life hereafter was not strong enough to sustain me and the sting of death was overpowering.  I was, however, grateful that I was the one to be there and spend a sacred moment telling him goodbye.  There was no doubt in my heart for I knew that his spirit was still in the room and I could feel the power of his presence.  There was a level of love that was exchanged between a daughter for her father in a quiet reverence that only angels can hear.  Then the room became still - and I knew he was called beyond the veil and the light extinguished, never again to shine in this world. 

After he was buried, I fell into a black abyss.  I mourned for his brilliant countenance and the excellence that had surrounded my family throughout his journey upon this earth.  If one could be fortunate enough to meet my father in the spirit world, they would indeed understand why I wrote the book, My Dad is Forever.  The story emulates the greatness of noble fathers and the legacy of love they instill in the hearts of their children.  

I was fortunate to receive an endorsement by Stephen R. Covey, author of The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and The 8th Habit: From Effectiveness to Greatness:  "My Dad is Forever is an uplifting and inspiring story of the love between a father and a son.  The Childhood memories evoked by this special book will bring laughter, tears and joy to the reader." 

My Dad is forever is dedicated to my father, my sons and their sons who have inspired the magnificence of genuine love, warm tones and tiny miracles.  Every soul is a gift of life.   

Click here for more information!

Chocolate Coated Imposters

The grass appears to look greener on the other side until you get there and realize that it's not grass at all, only a bunch of weeds.  Tend to the garden you planted at home, you will reap the harvest of a beautiful yield and be happy with the fruits of your labors.  Don't be lured in by faults temptations and cheep imitation when you already have the real deal waiting for you at home.  


Chocolate Coated Impostors are everywhere...

I don’t know if I can keep this deep dark secret from my husband any longer.  It all started so innocently one day when I was on my way to the 7-11 convenience store to get a power drink.  I was walking down the candy isle when I heard a neatly wrapped dark chocolate candy bar calling out to me and I couldn’t resist the sugar highs.  I tried to ignore his sweet advances, but he looked so handsomely delicious in that colorful shiny wrapper with the bright label.   

At first I was flattered that any candy bar would take the time to look my way, but then I became infatuated with his sweet dark whisperings in my sugar starved ears.  It was plain to see that our feelings were mutual and although he was not a Big Hunk, I couldn’t resist his sweet flirtations! 

He introduced himself as Mr. Goodbar and his complements were flowing from his nutty center like a chocolate melting melody and I was caught up in the magic of the moment.  His words were beguiling as he tempted me with his pure refined sugar and cocoa bean extract, but I yielded to Mr. Goodbar’s affections.  

Immediately, I thought about my wonderful husband waiting patiently at home for me to return.  He had trusted me to go straight to the coolers for a power drink and here I was alone in the candy isle, with this sweet temptation!  I turned to leave and that’s when Mr. Goodbar called me his sugar momma.  I could see that his outer layer of chocolate was melting with affection for me.  

What was happening? I thought.  I was so ashamed, I grabbed my power drink, slapped my money on the counter and ran out of the store.  When I got home my husband was waiting up for me and I could tell he had sugar suspicions in the back of his mind.  When he asked what had taken me so long, I lied to him! 

What was I supposed to do?  I couldn’t tell him the truth, he would be heart broken if he found out I was alone in the candy isle with this thin, dark chocolate stranger, so I hid the ugly truth!  That night I couldn’t sleep because of this dark and sticky situation I had gotten myself into.  My family and friends would be disappointed and heart broken when they found out about my dark secret. 

The next day I found myself driving straight to the 7-11, I was having a sugar rush from a cinnamon roll I had for breakfast and it weakened my resistance.  I don’t know why I would let this cheep dark imitation override my common sense, but again I found myself in the candy isle at the 7-11.  

My heart was fluttering as I walked down the isle and then I heard his familiar whispers calling for me.  I slowly turn around and noticed my charming chocolate coated friend sitting on the top shelf directly in front of me.  

 “Hello, Mr. Goodbar you’re looking rather sweet today.”   

We were almost eye to wrapper when I heard the “snickers” of all the other candy bars in the isle. 

“Did you tell them about us?” I said in a frustrated tone.

The snicker didn’t stop and they began taunting me with their 220 calories and 32 fat grams!  The pressure was intense and coming at me from all directions like jelly bellies from the chamber of a gun.  They were throwing chocolate kisses at me and I felt cheep and ashamed!  What kind of a girl did they think I was?  This was only my second time in the candy isle and already I was getting a reputation for being a trashy sweet tooth.

Just then I heard the voice of my husband, who was standing only a few feet away from me and Mr. Goodbar! 

“What are you doing here in the candy isle, I thought you always went straight to the cooler for a health power drink?” 

I bit my bottom lip and I was praying that Mr. Goodbar and his friends would keep their chocolate comments to themselves! 

“Ah, ummm, I was just passing through the candy isle on my way to the coolers for a power drink!  What are you doing here?”  

He looked at me with his loving eyes, but somewhere deep inside, I could tell he knew something wasn’t right.  It broke my heart to see the look on his face and then he spoke with powerful words that were not sugarcoated. 

“I was worried about you.  I just wanted to let you know how much I love you and it’s not worth losing our family over this cheep imitating and sugar high!”

My chin dropped and my eyes stared at the floor.  I was ashamed that I had let myself fall to this level.  I could lose the love and respect of my husband and my sugar baby's who were waiting at home for me - all because of the dark side of chocolate!    I couldn’t speak and tried to hide within my sugar denial, but then my faithful husband broke the dark silence.

 “I bought you a chocolate cheese cake and it’s in the car.  Sweetheart, let’s go home.”  

He wrapped his arms around me and we started to leave the store when we noticed a young woman walking down the candy isle on her way to the chips and crackers.  Then we heard the infamous Mr. Goodbar calling out to her with his dark temptations.  I got a sick feeling in the pit if my stomach.  My husband was right, Mr. Goodbar was a cheep imitation of the real deal and I was just another pretty face in the isle at the 7-11!    by, Linda Sumner Urza

Booger John!

Several years ago we had an exchange student from Spain named Lourdes living in our home.  One evening I was sharing the traditions of Halloween with her.  I was excited to tell her about all the events surrounding this holiday and the amount of fun children have with their imaginations.   When I finished explaining these things to her, she looked at me with a confused expression on her face and then she asked.  

“Are you telling me that you dress your children up like monsters?   You send them out into the dark streets at night and while you wait at home, they go to stranger’s houses asking for candy?”  

“Ummm yea...pretty much.”  I replied.

Obviously, there was something lost in translation, because Halloween didn’t sound nearly as fun and exciting when she said it back to me!   I had planned on telling her about the spooky carved faces on our pumpkins and how we decorate with bats, witches, ghosts and goblins, and put tombstones in our yards, but I kept that information to myself  (I didn’t want her to think we were going to suck the life from her veins while she was asleep in our home)!  I took off my witch hat, put down my broom and changed the subject. 

What made me think of this experience with Lourdes was a call I got yesterday from my daughter.  She relayed a frightening experience my three year old grandson had earlier that morning.  They were on the computer together looking at Halloween cartoons when she left the room for a moment to answer the phone.  He clicked on something that scared him half to death!  He started screaming in holy terror and scrambled up the flight of stairs into her loving arms.  My daughter was taken aback by his response and went downstairs to see what had frightened him so severely!  

She saw that he had clicked on a clip from The Nightmare Before Christmas and the background music was a scary Halloween song being sung by the groveling, demonic voice of Marilyn Manson!   It had scared him out of his wits; imagine having a voice so intense that it resonates fear into the hearts of little children and they flee in holy terror.  My daughter said she had to put soft angelic music on to neutralize his brain!

Don’t you remember being scared to death as a child?  Boy I do.  Once I was frightened from infinity and beyond!   When you’re a child, that level of fear is short of a lobotomy and it stays in the mind forever.

The most frightening thing in my life was one Halloween night when I overheard my older brothers and sisters telling a horrifying story.  It was so scary that it shattered my sense of well being and sent chills riveting down my spine!  This was a legend that had been handed down from generation to generation in my neighborhood; there was no way I could ever escape it’s ugly grasp.  This scary monster was so frightening that the very mention of his name sent a wave of trembling fear from house to house and even my dog was so terrified that we hid together underneath the bed! 

This frightening tale was that of a dead man called Booger John, who made the Wolfman, Frankenstein, and Dracula look like cake decorations.  Booger was from the grave and the mental images that formed in my mind were wild and vivid.  His clothes were torn and covered with dirt, he had worms crawling around in his eye sockets and the rest of his face and body was oozing with rotting flesh.  I don’t know where this legend came from, but I can tell you where it went!  

Booger John was a walking corpse right out of the cold, damp grave.  He was buried alive by a man with a patch on one eye and had only two fingers on his right hand.  (Now, if Booger John didn't scare the jaheebees right out of me, the man with one eye and two fingers did,  because he was wandering around out there too!)   

That fateful night when Booger was being buried alive by a man with one eye, there was a child who took a short cut through the graveyard and witnessed the shocking scene!  The legend has it that Booger John is still looking for answers.  He waits until dark, slips out of his grave and wanders aimlessly through the city looking for that one child and believing this child has the answers to the murder.  Booger John searches endlessly, night after night and it's just a matter of time before he finds your house!!!  Wait!  It gets worse, the one eye man is afraid of Booger John finding him, so he hides in your closets and under your beds!   

OKAY, OKAY OKAY!  There is nothing more vivid in detail than a child's imagination and Booger reigned fear and terror in mine.  The image of him was permanently etched in my brain with a hot branding iron and some of the scar tissue is still there today!  

Now that I'm an adult, I realize there are bigger boogymen in the world I live in today than Booger John, such as the IRS, collection agencies,  poverty, illiteracy, discrimination, politicians, war, and the list goes on and on.   I am no longer afraid of graveyards, (although, I am in no hurry to reside there)  it’s the living that present the dangers in life, not the dead.  I still love, love, love Halloween and believe there is a little child in all of us screaming to come out and play. 

    by, Linda Sumner Urza, One Fine Day

Cellular Attraction.

My life is never boring and I’ve had the most bizarre and random experiences happen to me in my lifetime, but this one takes the cake! 

I’ve owned the same cell phone for years, and I am attached to all its features.  It’s the original Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone, and it’s such a great little phone that over the years I’ve worn the printed lettering off the buttons.  It’s scratched, dinged, bruised, and chipped, but it can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.  

My children teased, “Fred Flintstone came by and he wants his old phone back.”  Oh, that’s really hilarious, but wait until you hear the rest of the story, it’s no laughing matter.  It’s true, I’m a creature of habit and I stick with the things that work for me.  I believe if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it!

Last year, I let my husband pressure me into a free upgrade, (totally against my better judgement) and I headed to the Sprint store to pick out a new phone.  It was excruciating for me and I haven’t been stressed out like that for a long time!  I felt like I was betraying a loved one.   

Reluctantly, I started browsing through the phones.  There were hundreds to choose from and they came in all colors, shapes, and sizes.  This was serious business for me.  I used the same criteria women use for picking out a good husband.  “Would it be durable enough to hold up under pressure, would it stand the test of time, and would I fall deeply in love with all it’s features?”

Literally, two hours later I was still trying to figure out what to do.  Finally, I gave the frustrated salesperson my choice; whereupon, she did an unforgivable thing and asked me for my old phone.  I felt like she was trying to kidnap my first born! 

“Why do you need my old phone?” I replied with suspicion.  

“I need to transfer your numbers into your new phone.”  She replied.

“Do I get it back?”

“Sure, if you want it back?” 

What did she mean, “if I wanted it back,” OF COURSE I WANTED IT BACK!  What kind of person did she think I was, that phone had been my personal therapist for over three years!  I had a sick empty pit in the bottom of my stomach as I watched her suck the life out of my faithful little phone.  The strangling fingers of fate slid around my skinny chicken neck, and I could hardly stand the thought of giving up my trusty old friend.  Then she powered down my Palm 680 Treo, laid it on the counter, and handed me this lightweight, sleazy imitation of a cell phone.

The thin impostor felt like a slab of cheese in my hand compared to my Palm 680; I stared at it like a stranger from a foreign land.  I was having second, third and fourth thoughts, but the deed was already done and I had the receipt in hand!  I took it home and tried to make the best out of the worst situation!  

Later that day, I read the instruction manual and surrendered to the fact that I was determined to make it work.  When I was learning how to use the buttons, I went to the picture mode and to my surprise it identified a picture upload.  I was curious how there could be a photo in the new phone, so I pushed the button to retrieve the picture.   It was a picture of a Sprint employee flipping the bird!  I’M NOT JOKING!  A great big fat finger in my face and behind the finger was a sleazy, cheesy grin!  It was double the insult for me; I had no emotional attachments to the phone and now I felt it had the same feelings for me! 

I marched back down to the store, put the fickle finger of fate up to her nose and asked if she had given me a, “used cell phone”.  The salesperson apologized and explained that the memory card must have had the photo on it when she transferred my numbers, and it inadvertently uploaded the photo.  Yes indeedy, it was a picture of their employee sharing his IQ.   

She apologized out of both sides of her mouth, erased the picture and handed me the phone.  Well, ho dee doe!  I didn’t really want the phone back, it was tainted, and nothing she said made me feel any better about my experience.  I stuffed the skinny impostor into my purse, thanked her and left the store.

Two days later, I decided to paint my husband’s office, when the new phone rang.  I picked up the skinny impostor and propped it between my shoulder and ear; (I wanted to have both hands free to stir the paint).  While I was talking to my sister, the phone slipped out from between my ear and shoulder like a wet bar of soap, and landed in the paint can!  I immediately reach in the slimy brown paint to retrieve the phone; it was coated on all sides in Midnight Mocha latex paint.  My new cell phone looked exactly like a dipped milk chocolate candy bar! 

It’s been over a year since this experience happened and I’m proud to say that I am still using my Palm Treo 680 innovative smartphone and loving it!   “Don’t hold your breath, Fred Flintstone, you won’t be getting this phone back any time soon!”  

  

Linda Sumnner Urza, One Fine Day