Baby, It's Cold Inside

A Nor'easter is in progress here in Natick, Massachusetts, just one week before Christmas. There is already 12 inches of snow on the ground, and it’s still going. My son-in-law told me that we’re in the belt expecting at least another 4 inches throughout the day. He is working from home today, and due to Covid, my daughter has been working from home since March. Their daughter is only three months old. I help as needed to the extent that I can.  Help this morning included taking a large broom to the three cars in the driveway before they became completely buried. I didn’t have the proper type gloves so my hands got really cold. Too cold, but I thawed. I also put the baby down for a nap. This included singing several Christmas songs: Sleigh Bells, The Christmas Song, and Let It Snow. In a different way, singing warmed us right up.  The added complication to our snowy day is that the furnace is being temperamental. We consulted with The Sage—my daughter’s dad. He is a savant when it comes to fixing everything and was able to talk us through a reset so that the house could heat back up after dipping down to 55 degrees. We have had to do the reset twice more since then. Apparently, a sensor is in the process of failing. It’s not my first experience being in a house where the heat is not working very well, or not at all in a few cases. One particularly memorable time was when the electricity went out during a storm while living in northern Indiana. My sister was very young, maybe only three, which would mean I was nine. Temperatures were below zero and ice had brought down the electric lines that serviced our home. By the time the sun set the first night, the temperature in the house was 50. Mom and Dad turned the faucets on to a thin trickle to ward off breaking pipes. Our parents built a fire in the fireplace and we set up a sort of base camp in front of it for the night. Snuggled between Mom and Dad, my sister and I slept cozily on our makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. Dad kept the fire stoked throughout the night. There was no worry about food going bad. By morning, the house was nearly as cold as the refrigerator. We had cereal and milk for breakfast and then made bologna sandwiches for lunch. With still no relief from the cold in sight, Dad made a decision. He called his parents. “Pack a bag. We’re driving to Wisconsin to be with Grandma and Grandpa until electricity is restored,” he announced mid-afternoon. The car was nice and toasty, and by dinnertime, we were in Wisconsin where there was heat and warm beds awaiting us. The furnace here in Natick is fueled by gas, and we’re not expecting to lose power. Good thing, too, because I have since learned that sleeping in front of your fireplace, or even your gas-fueled woodstove, is incredibly dangerous. If you do so, you risk carbon monoxide poisoning. Cozying up together with plenty of blankets and wearing hats would be more sensible. And singing songs. Maybe change the words and sing Baby It’s Cold In-side. That might warm things right up. Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020

Happy 10th Anniversary to TSMDW

Ten years ago today, I launched The Six Most Dangerous Words blog with my very first post. To those of you who have been faithful followers...thank you so very much!

I still plan to do an actual December post a bit later in the month, but, for now, here is a little anniversary of the blog trivia.

• First post: December 11, 2010, which explained the reason for the name, The Six Most Dangerous Words

• 124 posts to date

• Least read: Secrets and Lies Part I—Kevin from April 12, 2011

• Most read: It Was 50 Years Ago Today from September 2, 2014

• Most comments: The Christmas Pillows from December 29, 2018 and The Dinner Table from March 22, 2011

• Volume I, a compilation of posts from 2011 and 2012 was published to Amazon in early 2013

• Volume II, a compilation of posts from 2013, 2014, and 2015 was published to Amazon in 2017

• Volume III, a compilation of posts from 2016, 2017, and 2018 was published to Amazon in 2019 [and for some reason is not coming up in a quick search so here is the URL https://smile.amazon.com/Six-Most-Dangerous-Words-Collection-ebook/dp/B07PM9BLM8/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=the+six+most+dangerous+words+all+you+have+to+do+is+book+3&qid=1607705210&sr=8-1]

• There is a widget on the front page of the blog for signing up to get email notifications.

• You can search the blog by keywords, just scroll a bit further down the front page to find that widget!

Again, thank you all for your shares, your comments, and your support. I truly appreciate each and every one of you!

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020

You Have a New Sibling DNA Match to Explore!

Author’s Note: I now know two people who, due to DNA testing kits given on a birthday or during the holidays, have found they have half-siblings they didn’t previously know existed. 

My daughter and I got to talking about these surprises and the impact they might have on families. For both of the people I know, impact was low as both greeted their new half-siblings with excitement. But, surely it wouldn’t be the case for everyone. Surely, for some, it might unearth a long-held family secret.

And so, I imagined such a case and wrote this little piece of fiction for your contemplation and comment.

Unable to coordinate everyone's schedules for December, all five of Pam and Isaac's children are home this weekend. The plan is to have Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, go Black Friday shopping, put the finishing touches on present wrapping and last minute food preparation on Saturday, and then have their very own Christmas Day in November on Sunday. Perfect.

Only Bridget, who is a senior in high school, still lives at home. Although, technically, Benjamin isn’t completely fledged yet either. He is a junior at the University of Florida. Daniel is flying into Sarasota from New York City, and Laurel is driving down from Atlanta. Janet lives just over the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. 

Pam and Isaac are so excited to have all five of their children back in the house. It’ll be just like when they were all little. Perfect.  

The artificial pre-lit Christmas tree is already up. Isaac hauled it down from the attic last Saturday so that Pam could get it decorated in time for the Thanksgiving weekend. She spent the entire week making the house ready for their Christmas at Thanksgiving celebration. The wreaths are on the doors, the lights are strung along the eaves, and even the stockings are all hung on the mantel. Perfect. 

Everyone arrives as expected and by noon on Thanksgiving Day, they are all starting to wonder when dinner will be ready.

“Mom!” Bridget calls up the stairs. “The Alexa timer is going off!”

“Be right down,” Pam calls to her youngest daughter.

Pam scurries down to the kitchen. The aroma of the roasted turkey fills the house. She pulls open the oven door to see that it is a beautiful golden color. Perfect.

With Isaac’s help, she takes the 20-pound bird out of the oven and places it on a platter. Twenty minutes later they are all seated around the dining table where dozens of previous family celebrations have taken place. The table looks very festive, as is the meal they all enjoy together.

With bellies too full to think about desserts yet, everyone pitches in to help clean up. The football game is playing on the big screen television in the living room, but it is mostly background noise.

They all spend a couple hours playing the newest edition of Trivial Pursuit. Pam bought it last week for her game-loving family. Bridget and Benjamin get their final piece of the pie and then quickly take the win with a final question from the Entertainment category.

“Speaking of pie…” Benjamin says.

Bridget and Benjamin help Pam bring the pies to the dining room sideboard. There is pumpkin, pecan, and cherry from which to choose.

Laurel asks, “Do we have ice cream?”

Pam starts to jump up from the table having forgotten this most important addition to pie, but Daniel stops her and says, “Sit, Mom, you’ve worked hard enough. I’ll get the ice cream.” Pam smiles her appreciation at her son and sits back down at the table. 

That night as they prepare to go to bed Pam says to Isaac, “Best Thanksgiving ever!” He agrees. The day was definitely as idyllic as they come. Perfect.

Each member of the family has his or her own list of last minute items ready for Black Friday. Between the seven of them, they have the use of four cars. The most popular destinations are Target, Kohl’s, Wal-Mart, and Best Buy. But, there are also requests for Home Goods and Marshalls. It is decided that University Town Center and Mall will make for the best location from which to spread out. They will meet back up for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory. 

Their full day of shopping, eating leftover turkey and pie, and a riotous evening game of Pictionary comes to an end. As they prepare to go to bed Pam says to Isaac, “Another day without a hitch!” With a satisfied smile, he kisses his wife goodnight and switches off the light. Perfect.

After a full breakfast of bacon and eggs and pancakes, everyone goes back to their bedrooms to retrieve squirreled away boxes and bags, and the packages still in need of wrapping.

Janet opens the trunk of her car and lifts out the bag of stocking stuffer items she’s been buying over the past several months. She hasn’t been able to afford to get much for her family, but she is proud of the main gift she has selected. She goes in search of her mom’s box full of paper, bows, scissors, and tape.

They order pizza for dinner on Saturday night and decide to play Balderdash. “Every man for himself!” Isaac says. 

Daniel wins because the last three rounds of his fake definitions have been so cleverly crafted, he fools a majority into voting for them. 

After hugs and kisses, it is off to bed. 

Pam says to Isaac, “I’m thinking we should do this every year. I can’t remember when I’ve had more fun.”

On Sunday morning, Pam takes the apple and pecan stuffing she made yesterday afternoon out of the refrigerator and sets it on the counter. She then removes the crown roast, which will also sit out until it is room temperature. Once all the presents are opened, she’ll put everything together and place the roast in the oven.

This morning’s breakfast is an assortment of muffins and bagels, with plenty of different toppings to choose from, and a bowl of mixed fruit. Pam plugs both the toaster and Keurig into an outlet on the sideboard. She then arranges everything in baskets and ramekins, and places holiday plates and napkins next to a poinsettia arrangement. She makes the mimosas and pours them into chilled flutes. Perfect.

They are not a pajama family so everyone is dressed when they gather in the living room next to the Christmas tree. There is an embarrassing number of presents piled up under it. The gifts spread beyond the hemline of the skirt that covers the metal tree stand. With the angel topper, it stands at an impressive nine feet tall.

“Who wants to play Santa?” Isaac asks.

“You do it, Dad!” his children practically say in unison.

To everyone’s delight, Isaac happily dons the Santa hat and says, “Ho, ho, ho!” 

The mood is so cheerful and bright, even Bridget is allowed a mimosa.

They are a family that opens one present at a time so it takes well over an hour before the pile has dwindled down.

“Ho, ho, ho, now what is this little stash at the back of the tree?” asks Isaac. There are seven small boxes in a clump. They are all wrapped the same. “These say they are from Santa! That’s me,” Isaac jests. He hands the boxes around until each person is holding an identical box.

“Okay, really,” says Dan, “Who are these from?”

Janet raises her hand. “I wrote that they’re from Santa because I’ve given one to myself as well.”

They all laugh.

Benjamin asks, “Can we open them?”

“Sure,” Janet says. They all tear into the packaging at the same time.

There is an echo of responses that makes its way around the room: Cool! I always wanted to do this! I have loads of friends who have done it! Wow, I can’t wait!

“I thought we could all now know, for sure, about that Seminole Indian heritage Dad is always talking about,” Janet says to the excited responses of her sisters and brothers.

Isaac and Pam sit mute as they stare with ashen faces at the Ancestry DNA kits in their hands.

Pam drops her kit on the floor and jumps up. She runs to the stairs. A moment later, the slamming of a door shakes the house. 

The stunned siblings look to their dad who says, “Um, uh, ahem, I’ll go check on her.” He, too, jumps up and though he doesn’t run, he does take the stairs two at a time. 

The DVD of Christmas songs has stopped playing, weirdly reaching the end at this same exact moment. An upstairs door is heard opening and closing. And then there is utter silence.

The five look from one to another not knowing what to say next. 

Daniel is the first to speak. “Well, this is awkward.”

Laurel says, “I’ll say.”

“Oh dear,” says Bridget.

Benjamin clears his throat and says, “Okay...which one of us do you think has a different parent than we have all thought?”

Eyebrows raise in answer to the question that is on everyone’s mind.

“Yes, that is definitely the question,” Daniel agrees.

They can now hear the raised voices of their parents floating down the stairway but no one can make out the actual words. 

Laurel, as the next oldest says, “I don’t really know what’s going to happen here, but let’s just say based on what is already happening that Benjamin is right. One of us has a different parent. Or maybe all of us have a different parent. Whatever the case may be, let’s decide right now whether we want to know or not.” She looks around at her four siblings and asks, “All in favor of taking the test, raise your hand.” They all raise their hand. “Okay, that’s settled. No matter what Mom or Dad says, even if they beg us not to take the test, we’re taking the test.” Everyone nods in agreement. 

Laurel says, “I feel absolutely terrible.” They all assure her that this is nonsense, that if there’s a family secret, it was bound to come out at some point, and they might as well all be in this together. This makes her feel better.

The raised voices continue to drift down the stairwell. Daniel says, “Let’s put our kits away, and go for a walk. It’ll be better than sitting here listening to whatever that is.” 

It is noon before Pam and Isaac emerge from their bedroom. Pam’s eyes and face are red with crying. She stops in the hall and turns into Isaac’s embrace. He squeezes her close and whispers, “It’ll be just fine.”

Pam sniffs and says, “Easy for you to say. You’re the sympathetic figure here.”

“Hush now. I played my part,” he soothes.

The hardest part, however, will not be explaining to their own children. The hardest part will be telling a man from whom they have hidden the truth. The hardest part will be his finding out he has another daughter.

The ripples of this 23-year-old secret will be the hardest part. Pam and Isaac will have to convince the biological father of one of their children to tell his wife and his three children. If he doesn’t, one of his children might someday get an email with the subject line: You Have a New Sibling DNA Match to Explore!

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020

A Sadie Hawkins Dance

Left, Al Capp's characters; right, my date and me. We didn’t “marry up” or even date afterwards, but we went to a Sadie Hawkins dance as sophomores in high school.

The cartoonist Al Capp used his “L’il Abner” character, Sadie Hawkins, to introduce to the world the notion of girls asking boys out instead of the other way around. In Capp’s 1937 storyline, the women of Dogpatch, U.S.A., had one day a year during which they could chase down a bachelor in order to “marry up.” The notion quickly morphed into a popular means by which junior and high school age girls throughout the U.S. could ask a boy to a dance once each year. It became so popular that by 1952 there were over 400,000 known venues throughout Canada and the U.S. where a day was devoted to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. My high school was one of them. I won’t get into the whole awfulness that touches upon everything from patriarchy to feminism because that’s simply too much for my humble blogpost. But I encourage you to think about those things on your own. 

Asking anyone to a dance is a nerve-wracking undertaking, and my experience was no different. I had recently broken up with my one and only ever boyfriend and was pretty ticked off about the way it happened. I had no idea who to ask to the dance and seriously considered just sitting the whole thing out. But, a few weeks before the dance I was suddenly quite inspired with a wicked and vengeful idea. I would ask my ex’s twin brother.

I knew the twins were somewhat competitive because I had gone to school with them both since first grade. My ex was the less shy of the two so I wasn’t sure if his twin would agree to go with me. But, I mustered up the courage, with a couple good friends cheering me on—they, too, wanted to see me avenged in this small way—and made the ask.

My ex’s twin said yes. And isn’t that an interesting thing to deconstruct decades later? But, again, I think that’s a topic  best left for my fellow armchair psychologists to contemplate on their own.

I immediately got started on the dress I would wear. Mom took me to the local fabric shop where we picked out a Simplicity pattern and the fabric. I laid out the pieces of the pattern, cut them out, and then stitched and sewed my way to a formal dress. I didn’t quite get the bodice right—made it a tad too large in perhaps a moment of some wishful thinking—but managed to hitch it up with a few safety pins at the last minute to make it work. I was taking this date seriously. I was going to look my best, if for no other reason than to make sure that my ex would suffer when he saw the photos.

My date brought me a corsage that Mom helped to pin on the lapel of my dress. And that’s about the last thing I remember about that dance. Afterall, the climax of it had happened long before he came to pick me up because “the ask” was the thing when it came to a Sadie Hawkins dance. “The ask” was everything in that I had not only been accepted, but I had delivered a message loud and clear.

 

Thankfully, I think my date was completely aware of my motives and not the least bit bothered by them. He seemed to be quite happy to place his hand with mine on the proverbial knife and give it a good stab into his brother.

I think this story may be the very definition of what it means to be sophomoric.

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2019

How Are You Feeling Today?

Author’s Trigger Warning: Though the author is in no way a certified expert on the subject, this story contains references to the mental health condition called depression. 

It is a commonly held belief that depression primarily presents with symptoms of lethargy, such as the individual wants to sleep all the time, or lacks motivation, or is sad, or even suicidal. While these symptoms certainly are part of the canon, they are not the only way that depression manifests itself in a person’s actions and reactions.

I learned a couple decades ago when a close friend of mine and I came very close to forever ending our friendship, that depression can also present as anger and aggression. Several weeks ago, I had to remind myself of the decades-old incident with my friend in order to try to find a way to process the anger leveled at me by a total stranger who unleashed an unprovoked verbal attack.

I walk each morning through several nearby neighborhoods where a number of people pass by on bicycles or on foot with a wave and a friendly hello and good morning. This has become the usual way of things in a pandemic. Some people wear masks, one man adds gloves to his attire, and everyone observes the cautionary six-foot distance. 

Observing the six-foot distance might be initiated by a runner or walker as much as a block in advance. I’ve seen people cross to the other side of the road, and I’ve seen people with dogs move off the sidewalk into the grass where they simply wait until an oncoming walker has passed. I started to notice that walkers routinely yield to runners, and if there are two runners, we both move to our grassy sides of the sidewalk to create the proper distance. An unspoken and unwritten social contract has evolved among those of us who are active. It was really nice. Until one person wasn’t nice at all.

It was the first week of May, 2020, and a small percentage of people, fed up with social distancing and sheltering in place, had begun to voice their anger. Social contracts be damned, they ranted, their freedom and constitutional rights were under attack and they were having none of it.

During this same early week in May, as I walked my usual pathway, I saw a woman heading towards me. She was walking very fast. I had just transitioned into an older part of the neighborhood where the sidewalks are considerably more narrow. They are too narrow to be able to observe the six-foot recommendation. As she got closer I could clearly see she had no intention of moving off the sidewalk herself, so I took the initiative and stepped off into the grass as I continued moving forward. She gave me a bit of a glare and scowl as she approached and then at the moment we were parallel she muttered, “Fuckin weirdo.”

I’ve never been very good at comebacks. When people say shocking, insulting, stupid, or nonsensical things to me, I live in a world of the stunned. I can live there for several days trying to figure it all out and I toy with phrases that would have been the perfect thing to say.

In this case I’ve decided that the only thing that may have had an impact is, “Well, bless your heart.” But then I remember that her anger is undoubtedly the result of a lifelong struggle with depression. And for that, she’ll need some serious meds and a psychiatrist.

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020

O Negative

Attention all passengers, anyone with O Negative blood, who is willing to help us with a medical emergency, is requested to meet with our ship’s head nurse in the Tides Dining Room on Deck 4.

I am sitting near the pool on Deck 12 of my Royal Caribbean cruise ship when the announcement comes over the loudspeaker. I actually haven’t heard exactly what was said because most announcements have something to do with the next goofy activity and I usually am not interested.

Attention all passengers, anyone with O Negative blood, who is willing to help us with a medical emergency, is requested to meet with our ship’s head nurse in the Tides Dining Room on Deck 4. 

After the second announcement, I am aware that something is being said about O Negative blood, and a medical emergency.

Attention all passengers, anyone with O Negative blood, who is willing to help us with a medical emergency, is requested to meet with our ship’s head nurse in the Tides Dining Room on Deck 4. 

Upon hearing the announcement in its entirety, I hop up off my deck chair, put my bathing suit coverup on, pack up my book, water, and phone, and head to Deck 4. I have O Negative blood, which I know is kind of rare. About seven percent of the population has it. I knew we had close to 2,000 passengers on board and a quick calculation means there is the potential of 140 of us with this blood type. By the time the head nurse does a head count of everyone who has responded, there are 17 volunteers in the room.

“I’m going to start by asking a series of questions. Please raise your hand if your answer is Yes. Are you in any doubt about whether you have O Negative blood? In other words, if you are not sure whether you have O Negative blood, please raise your hand.”

Three hands go up, and I think: Really? Why on earth would you come down here if you weren’t sure? Curiosity about the medical emergency? People are weird.

“Thank you so much for being willing to volunteer. You may return to your regular activities. Now, for those of you still seated, are you experiencing any cold-like symptoms like coughing, sneezing, watery eyes, or fever? And I want to add that even if you believe one of these symptoms to be allergy-related, I still want you to raise your hand.”

Two people raise their hands.

“Thank you so much for being willing to volunteer. You may return to your regular activities. For those of you still seated, do you take a blood-thinner such as heparin or warfarin, also called Coumadin?”

Eight people raise their hands. All of them, curiously, are men.

There are now only four of us left in the room. 

“OK then,” says the head nurse, “does anyone here have a Red Cross card with their blood type listed, or any other official documentation that states that you have O Negative blood?” 

The woman sitting nearest to me has her arm around the shoulders of a twenty-something looking man. She raises her hand.

The nurse says, “Great, may I see your card?”

The woman says, “Well, it’s actually not my card. It’s my son’s.” She nods her head toward the young man, who I seriously wonder about. He has no facial expression, and he looks a bit hungover. 

“Sir?” the nurse prompts. “May I see the documentation you have indicating your blood type?” 

Awareness seems to return to the young man’s eyes. He suddenly jerks his shoulders as if in revulsion of his mother’s arms around him. Or, is it some sort of spasm? Maybe he’s cold and just shivered? He stands, reaches in his back pocket for his wallet, digs inside for the card, and finally presents it to the nurse. 

The nurse looks the card over. The nurse looks the man over for what I would describe as an uncomfortable amount of time. The mother has a look of hopeful anticipation on her face. But it’s more than that. Maybe pride? I can’t quite put my finger on it.

The nurse then asks the young man, “Are you here on your own volition?” This, I think, is a question I would also have definitely asked him as he seems so robotic.

The man nods, utters the word yes and the nurse says, “OK, you come with me.”

The mother jumps up from her seat and says, “I can come, too, right?”

The nurse says, “Of course, madam.” He then turns to me and the other person in the room and says, “Could you both please write down your names on that clipboard paper over there? Include your cabin number, and, if you know, where you’re likely to be over the next couple hours. In the event there’s any problem, or if we need more than what this volunteer is able to provide, we’d like to know where we might find you. And, thank you so much for coming down here today. We really appreciate it.”

The nurse, the young man, and the mother scurry off down the hall toward the on-board medical facility.

With 2,000 passengers on board, it’s unusual, to say the least, to have a second encounter with someone with whom your first encounter is as brief as mine was with the volunteers. I had been on the cruise for a week already, and had never before seen any of the other 16 volunteers that showed up in the Tides Dining Room on Deck 4 for the medical emergency call. And yet, just three hours later, as I am descending the stairs from Deck 12 back to my room on Deck 7, I see the mother of the young man. She is all but running up the stairs. She holds a glass of orange juice in each hand. She would not have noticed me except I say, “Oh hi! How is your son doing?” She glances up and probably still doesn’t recognize me but answers, “He’s tired, and I think his blood sugar is still low.” She raises the glasses to show me the orange juice and keeps her pace up to ascend the next several steps. “Everything went well, though?” I call. Now with her back to me I hear her say, “Yup!” And off she goes.

The experience makes for a good story to tell that evening at dinner with my travel companions, and again in the morning during coffee and breakfast with the dozen-ish others we’ve met and with whom we’ve become social. Of course everyone wants to know what the medical emergency was and what the outcome was, but I don’t know any more details. That is, I didn’t know any more details, until two nights later.

A large group of us attends the evening stage show together, and then six of us decide to go have another cocktail together at a little Bistro. As we share tales of the various excursions we had been on earlier in the day, I realize that right across from us, sitting in a booth, is the mother and son. The mother has her legs draped over her son’s lap and she is holding his hand. He, again, has a blank look on his face. He looks high. I stare at this little tableau trying to figure out what the hell I am witnessing. 

My table of companions grows quiet for a moment, and I can’t help myself. “Hi there,” I say in a louder voice. The mother and son look over at me. “Looks like you’re feeling better. I ran into your mom bringing you the two orange juices after you donated blood the other day. I was there ready to volunteer, too.”

The mother reaches up to her son’s face to caress his cheek with her hand. The son makes the same jerky motion he’d made down in the Tides Dining Room and the mother reluctantly removes her legs from his lap and sits up a bit straighter. He then explains in a very clear and commanding voice that all had gone just fine. He was fully recovered and felt great. He added that the passenger who needed the blood had apparently fallen a couple days earlier. But then had grown weak, and her husband became concerned when he couldn’t wake her up. The ship’s medical staff had done some quick work to find that she had been bleeding internally. The blood was needed to give her a bit of strength so they could then off-board her and send her to the nearest medical facility. 

The mother’s eyes pool with tears. While looking lovingly at her son, she says, “He’s a hero.” She attempts to place her hand on his cheek again, but he, gently this time, guides her hand back to the table. He gives us all an embarrassed smile. 

After that, my travel companions and I had a field day (or two) speculating about this couple. There were far more questions than answers to that relationship. It was shipboard gossip worth its weight in salt. 

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020

Digital Piano

Author’s Trigger Warning: This story contains a reference to suicide. 

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2020—Messenger

You named the group Deb Anderson · Samick SG-450 Digital Baby Grand.

Deb—Is this available?

Gregg—👍Yes

D—I’m in the process of moving to Bradenton and am very interested in taking a look at your piano. Could you tell me why you are selling it?

G—Because I’m in the process of moving myself. It would be too difficult to coordinate my move to Rhode Island with it.

G—And if u don’t know yet, most Floridians only buy digital since humidity will warp the acoustic style pianos. So digital is definitely the way to go.

D—Ha! OK. I think I'm probably going to end up making a trip down (currently living with my sister in St. Pete while I wait to close on my new home). How comfortable would you be with the idea of coordinating with you to visit and take a look?

G—Yes of course u may.

G—To be honest, I did have a gentleman call this morning, and he seemed interested, but haven’t heard back. You are most welcome to come by and try out.

G—But I take that as a grain of salt

G—He hasn’t texted me back since morning

G—So please u are most welcome to come and play

G—I’m very close to saint Pete

G—Here is my #...

D—Cool. I'll be back in touch once I hear from my realtor about when I need to drive over the bridge. If you get another serious buyer, of course, please don't worry about me. If I decide I want it, I couldn't take possession until March 1. Is that a problem? My phone number is ... so will text for next correspondence. Please do the same if you end up selling it in the meantime. Getting ready for the Super Bowl! Thanks!

G—I will of course let u know

G—I am supposed to be all moved out by end of lease which is May 31

G—So no problem on March for u if I don’t sell before

G—Enjoy the game!😀

D—👍

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 5—Messenger

G—Hi Deb, this is Gregg. I own the digital baby grand piano we spoke about the other day. The person who was interested in buying didn’t work out. So if you are still interested let me know. Have a great evening.

D—I’m actually coming to Bradenton on Monday for a 1:00 appt. on the west side. Would it work to try to coordinate a visit 2:30-3ish? I think the appt shouldn’t be more than an hour. You’re east of 75?

G—Monday is good. I am actually west of 75. I live in Carlton Arms Apartments on SR-64

D—Oh Carlton Arms! One of my closest friends lived there right out of high school. How about I text when leaving my appt?

G—I do have to tell u deb that I’m having surgery on my foot on Feb 26th so I wouldn’t be able to help move it for u.

G—If u are truly interested, I’d be more than willing to work with u on price

G—Since I can’t move it due to foot surgery

G—I look forward to hearing from u. Any questions feel free to text or call …

D—Appreciate that as it is priced above what I’d budgeted for. We’ll talk Monday! Thanks, Gregg.

G—Ok sure no problem.

G—Your very welcome

G—Have a good evening😀

D—You too!

G—ty

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 9—Messenger

G—Hello Debbie! I hope u are enjoying this beautiful Sunday afternoon. I wanted to check in with you to see if you are still planning on stopping by to try out my baby grand piano tomorrow?

D—You bet! My appt is at 1 near 75th and Manatee. I’ll text when heading your way so you can then share your address. I’m thinking 2:30/3ish?

G—Perfect

G—Talk to u then! 🙂

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 10—Messenger

D—I’m done with my appt and I think I’m going to stop by Rooms to Go on Cortez for a few minutes before heading to you. Remind me...Carlton Arms is out Manatee right? And I’ll need the exact address

G—Hey Deb

G—Carlton Arms is on State Road 64

G—I will send you the address as soon as I get home I’m right down the street I had to go to Publix

G—I’ll be home in five minutes then I will text you my address

G—You will have to give guard at guard shack my name

G—And address

G—Gregg M... ... Carlton inlet dr, apartment .... It’s bldg #... and u will see my car out front, silver Hyundai Elantra, along with an old antique car

G—Near it. Not my car but it’s a checkpoint

G—Any questions Feel Free To call me …

D—I ended up buying a bunch of stuff! Just about to finish up.

G—Sure no problem Take ur time

D—ETA 3

MONDAY—Text to my sister

D—Hey Sues, the address I’ll be at is … If I don’t text you again in an hour, call the police. 😁Seriously, just in case, since I’m going to a stranger’s house.

Susan—Yep! Gotcha covered.

MONDAY—Face-to-Face upon arriving at Gregg’s apartment

D—Oh, I really like it.

G—I used to enjoy it every day, but I’ve had so many health issues, I haven’t had time to play it.

D—Is that why you’re selling it?

G—No, I’m actually getting ready to move back to Rhode Island. The majority of my family is up there and after my divorce, I just really have felt isolated down here.

D—Yes I understand. Good time to start over. I am in the process of doing something similar. I sold everything before moving down here.

G—Sorry about the cat. Snickers! Stop bothering her. She’s really friendly.

D—I don’t mind.

G—She keeps me company and I’ll definitely be bringing her with me to Rhode Island.

D—When are you looking to move?

G—Sometime in May.

D—I definitely want to buy the piano from you. But, I can’t take possession until end of February, maybe even early March because I won’t be closed on my new home until February 26th. Does that work for you?

G—That works great. I’m actually having surgery on the 26th on my knee, but I’ll be back home that evening. My friend Liz will be here all day on the 27th just to make sure I’m recovering okay. 

D—Well, I can’t get it on the 26th, but maybe on the 27th. Or how about the 28th? Or early the week after that?

G—Oh, yea, you said you’re closing on your house the 26th. Yes the 28th will work, too.

D—Great. I’ll text you again at the beginning of that week just to be sure that the closing is on target. You know how those things can go.

G—Oh, yes, sometimes things can get messed up.

D—Yep!

G—Would it be possible for you to bring me cash?

D—Oh sure. No problem. I can do that.

G—And I won’t be able to help move it at all. It only weighs 250 pounds or so, but with my knee.

D—Oh, no, I had no expectation that you would help move it. I’ll hire some people to do that.

G—Make sure they’re professionals who know how to move pianos. I know this one is smaller and digital, but still, it can get damaged pretty easily.

D—I will be hiring professionals who have handled pianos before.

G—Don’t let anyone rip you off. It shouldn't cost more than $200.

D—I won’t, thanks for the guidance.

G—OK, well I’ll wait to hear from you.

D—Thanks, again. I’ll be in touch in a couple weeks.

G—Bye!

D—Bye bye.

MONDAY—Text to my sister

D—Sues, I’m leaving and heading to your house. The piano was fabulous! So excited.

S—Oh good! See you soon.

MONDAY—Messenger

G—Thank you for stopping by Deb. If you like, I can mark the piano as “Sold” on the website,

Or try and take ad down. I’m happy it’s going to a good home. Blessings to u! 😇 Gregg

D—Yes thank you! Take care!

G—Will do drive safe.

Posts on Marketplace Samick SG-450 Digital Baby Grand—Gregg sold Samick SG-450 Digital Baby Grand. Gregg removed the item from Marketplace.

G—I went ahead and deleted all listings. Look forward to hearing from you.

D—Yes, I saw it. Thank you!

G—Hi Deb, I just wanted to touch base and ask if u mind paying in cash? Of course we will

Write up a bill of sale, because it is a expensive item. Thank u again,

D—I can do cash

G—Thank you Deb. Have a nice evening.

D—You too

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 13—Messenger

D—I’m getting a moving quote today. What day is your surgery? And do you have a preferred day—any day beginning 2-25 on.

G—Hi Deb, my surgery is scheduled for Wednesday, February 26th. It’s an outpatient surgery, so any day before or after will be fine. Do u have an idea of when you would like to pick it up?

G—If at all possible, do you have any kind of straps that can be used to secure moving parts? If not, then I do have moving/packing tape that we maybe able to use to secure, if you are okay with that? Not sure if it’s a good idea since it’s tape and may do damage to finish? Another suggestion is some kind of bungee rope? Between the two of us we can figure out best way to move the piano for you Deb.

D—I’m quoting with an actual piano moving company so I’m sure they’ll have straps but I’ll make sure they do. I’ve tentatively asked for the quote with moving day 2/25 so will be back in touch.

G—Hi Deb, just a quick FYI, you may want to shop around and definitely let the movers know it’s a digital piano and not an acoustic, as they usually charge a lot more for acoustic pianos. I’d hate to have them quote u an astronomical price for an acoustic piano move when in fact it’s a lot lighter digital. I remember being told this once before. I just know they may try to get u to pay top 💵 when in fact it shouldn’t cost much. I believe I was quoted between

$125-200 for professional movers to move it. I just want you to be able to get a great price.

D—Who did you quote with?

G—To be honest Deb I do not know I wish I could find the information that goes back to when I first bought the piano almost 3 years ago. I would suggest calling around but do tell them that it’s a digital not an acoustic because there is a big price gap between the moving in acoustic which is much more tedious than a digital

D—I’ll do my due diligence!

G—👍

G—Ok great

G—I look forward to hearing back from you.

D—Thanks, again.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 16—Messenger

D—OK we’re all set for the morning of 2/25. The movers will be there at 9. I will come as well to give you your cash payment of $.... This company has moved many digital pianos and their quote is about what you thought it should be. See you a week from Tuesday!

G—So happy to hear this Deb. I’m happy to hear that you have received an honest quote.

G—See u on the 25th. Blessings. Have a nice Sunday.

D—BTW, 2 men from Stronger Moving will need to be given the OK to drive in, as will I. Have a great week!

G—Yes of course. Please forward the following to them

And yourself to allow the front gate to let you in. They/you will need the following information....

G—Address …

G—In case they or you need my number …

D—👍

G—Debbie, I will also print out a bill of sale for us, A copy for you and one copy for me for the amount of $... I will include the piano name model serial number and I will include the words sold “As Is” within the language of the bill of sale. Please let me know if this is OK with you and I will proceed to write that out today or during this week thank you again Deb have a great day

D—Sounds good!

G—I will take a picture of the bill of sale to make sure you are comfortable with the language, specifications, etc., so that we can both be in agreement and can sign it on Tuesday. 🎶🎹

D—👍

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25—Messenger

8:12 AM D—Good morning! Recd confirmation from movers. See you in 45 mins or so!

8:50 AM D—I’m a few minutes early, and thought I’d better message again since I hadn’t heard back from you.

9:00 AM D—We’re here!

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 25—At Gregg’s apartment door, where I meet up with the movers. There is an Amazon package sitting on Gregg’s welcome mat.

Knock knock knock

Knock knock knock

D—That’s weird

Movers—Did you call him yet?

D—Well, I messaged him. I get out my phone and call the number he gave me. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. I leave a message.

D—Let’s give him a few minutes. Maybe he overslept.

M—Sure thing. We can just sit in the truck. How long do you want to wait?

D—Ten minutes?

M—Sure

Ten minutes later

Knock knock knock

Knock knock knock

9:15 AM D—Well, I can’t imagine, or rather I don’t want to imagine, what has happened, so let’s go ahead to the house and unload the POD

M—No problem, see you there.

TUESDAY—Messenger

D—OK not sure what’s happened this morning with you. Sure hope you’re OK but regardless of your situation I have now incurred the expense of hiring movers who I will have to pay for the time set aside for the piano move. We might be able to salvage the sale if you’re interested but it’ll have to be at a lower price in order to make up for the cost of today. Again, truly hope you’re OK, but this has put me in a bind.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27—Face-to-Face at daughter and son-in-law’s hotel pool

Ariel—How did you meet this guy you were supposed to buy the piano from?

D—He advertised on Facebook Marketplace.

A—What do you think happened?

D—I think he might be dead.

A—Oh, Mom.

D—No, really. He was completely responsive, was an oversharer, very concerned that I get the right movers. I just have a feeling that the only explanation for him not being there on Tuesday is that he’s dead. Or in the hospital and unable to communicate. 

A—Are you friends with him on Facebook?

D—No.

A—Do you know his full name?

D—Yes.

A—Let’s stalk him to see if we can find anything out.

Ariel and I open Facebook, search for his name, find him, and see that his last post was February 18, just two days after our last Messenger texts. The post is a big black box. We scroll back into his timeline and see that he posts just about every day. But after the February 18 post, nothing. Ariel clicks on the list of people who have responded in some way to his post—all sad faces, and, weirdly, he himself has Liked his own post. Also weirdly, one of the people (Liz) who has responded has two friends in common with me. One of them is my niece. Ariel suggests I message this woman, Liz, who was going to care for him after surgery, and say that we have two friends in common and explain why you’re getting in touch with her. I do.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27—Messenger

D—We, weirdly, have a couple friends in common but also have a Gregg M... connection. I was supposed to buy his piano on Tuesday, but he totally ghosted on me and I'm worried that something happened to him. Do you have any information?

Liz—Omg Deb I’m so sorry... we were really trying to figure out how to get in touch with u. Gregg took his life last Tuesday. We are in shock and I’m trying to put the pieces together. Did u pay for the piano in advance?

D—Oh Jesus! I was so afraid this might be the case. I have a sixth sense thing that sometimes people think I’m crazy. No I didn’t pay for anything except the movers. But let’s not worry about that. I’m so sorry for his friends and family. I have gone on to make other piano plans so I’m also sorry if finding a home for it was something people were counting on. I actually think I’m about to cry and I didn’t really even know him. Lots of love to all.

L—That’s very sweet of u... we keep trying to piece things together but it still doesn’t make sense. I’m so sorry u paid for the movers. And I understand the sixth sense all too well. It’s not weird or crazy... Gregg had those senses too. That’s probably why he wanted to sell u the piano. He wouldn’t just sell it to anyone. He loved that piano. I don’t know what else to say besides we are grieving immensely. It’s been troublesome for his family to get his belongings. The apartment complex is giving them a hard time. Again, I’m so sorry about the piano situation. I wish there was a way I could get the piano to u. I’m glad u found another piano though. Thank u for reaching out. I’m so happy we can stop worrying about who bought the piano. I’m also happy to hear u didn’t pay in advance. Thank u for the kind words. Take care Deb 😊

D—💔

Copyright DJ Anderson, 2020