Windsor Gardens Life

June 2018 Page 27 Windsor Writers Trivia by Carol Brooks 1. Who said, “The future ain’t what it used to be?” 2. What is the capital of Nova Scotia? 3. Meadowlark Lemon was a player for what team? 4. What is the deepest lake in the United States? 5. What is the small magnifying glass used by jewelers and watchmakers called? Answers on page 31. To read more visit the Windsor Writers website: www.wg-wg.com . The parade of telemarketing phone calls is getting out of hand. I average at least two such phone calls each evening, usually just after I have started to eat dinner. I am also getting more and more calls during the daytime. I know those folks making the calls need to make a living, but it is not wise to give out one's credit card number to a strange voice on the phone. Many times, the voice on the phone is a recording, which makes it even more disgusting. I have finally learned that if I do not recognize the name or number on the phone, I simply do not answer. The parade of callers almost never leave their name and there is almost never a message. On one occasion, some time ago, the call was local, so I decided I must know who was calling. When I answered, the caller, giving no name asked, “We are only talking to retirees who are highly intelligent. Are you retired?” I answered, “Yes.” He said, “Sir, are you intelligent?” And I replied, “Yes, I am,” and then hung up. He didn't call back either! Once, when we lived in Casper, Wyoming, our phone number was similar to the police department's. The phone rang and a nearly hysterical lady said, “Someone is looking at me through the window!” I got her address and called the police department, who dispatched a squad car immediately. The police sergeant called me later and said that a deer had wandered onto her patio and was watching television with her through the window! Some time ago my phone rang and a lady asked for Pearl. I replied that no one by that name lived here. Angrily, she replied, “WHO IS THIS?” I said, “Ma’am, who is calling?” Now the lady got really furious. “WHO IS THIS? I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO THIS IS.” Now I'm angry. I asked her what number she was calling. At the top of her voice, she said, “WHY YOU DUMMY, I CALLED THIS NUMBER. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH PEARL?” In frustration, I just hung up, knowing she probably couldn't call back because she had the wrong number. I am getting more and more of these kinds of call parades. Please, someone call me who knows me and my number. Phone a friend today. And if you know where Pearl is, tell her to call her friend. the language of east European Jews. Imagine a black kid chatting with a bearded rabbi in a baby-equipment store in the 1950s, and then later discussing world affairs in Yiddish with the Prime Minister of Israel. Only in America! You Might Need Mazel to Say What You Mean continued from page 26 Theme: Parade A Parade of Phone Calls by Hap Hansen There are some things I just can’t sit still for. On those rare occasions when I’m sitting in a bar with friends listening to a live band playing country western music, I try really hard not to dance back and forth in my seat, but I do give in to copious toe tapping and a discreet bit of knee slapping. And who can sit still if you’re listening to the oompah-pah of a German band playing “The Beer Barrel Polka?” You’ve simply got to stomp your feet, wishing you had the energy to get out there and dance! Every so often when I’m home alone listening to a concert on TV and they happen to be playing something rousing like the “1812 Overture,” I just have to get up and conduct the orchestra. I make sure to close the drapes in my living room, because if anyone were to walk by and see me standing there waving my arms in the air, they would naturally assume that I have, in fact, lost my mind. Some tunes make me want to sway to the music. Others make me want to sing along. Still others make me wish I could get up and dance. But the hardest thing of all for me to resist is when I see the band lined up in hushed formation, their crimson uniforms so trim and handsome, their golden epaulets winking in the sun. They stand at attention, holding their breath till the conductor raises his baton and points to the snare drums. The drums begin with a soft rat-a-tat-tat, and then the bass joins in going boom, boom, boom, and the horns start playing and the trumpets start blaring and the cymbals start clashing and the pipes start twiddling and my heart starts thumping as the band starts marching down the street. Well, I just can’t stand it! I’ve got to take off my shoes and get up and march around my living room, mindful of cracking my shins on the coffee table, and the neighbors be damned, because when the band’s playing “76 Trombones Led the Big Parade,” who can sit still for that? I Just Can’t Sit Still by Marilynn Reeves