A Bizarre Tale

About a year ago, in early 2006, I received a call from my credit card company telling me that they noticed some suspicious transactions on my credit card. The transactions, they said, didn’t match my buying patterns, and they wanted to know if the purchases were mine. After some phone calls and some postal mailings back and forth, we determined that indeed my credit card information had been compromised and some fraudulent transactions had occurred.

The amounts ranged from around $50 to $200 and all were payments through online payment systems including Stormpay.com. StormPay is a service similar to PayPal, although PayPal was not involved in my ordeal. I use credit cards very little, and these transactions were easy to catch. However, for many people who use their cards often, this could have been very bad news. These transaction amounts fall in the range of everyday purchases, and if they were buried in a long list of other legitimate transactions, the fraud might have gone undetected for months. I was lucky to catch them right away.

I worked with my credit card company and the vendors involved in the transactions, and all were resolved satisfactorily except one that dealt with Stormpay. Stormpay refused to refund my money. They sent back a list of disclaimers stating that they weren’t responsible for fraudulent transactions going through their system. They also sent a printout of the transaction detail. The printout listed my correct name, address, and phone number. Curiously though, the email address was not mine. The name was attached to the email domain @e-no.lv, which is registered in the country of Latvia.

The transaction detail showed a deposit of $50 into the Stormpay account from my credit card. Then the money was shown to be refunded to a person by the name of Drahoslav Trinka, who then withdrew the money from the account. This was clearly a fraudulent series of transactions, but Stormpay would not acknowledge the fraud. Using circular logic, they insisted that the person opening the account had read all the disclaimers, making the account holder name (me) responsible for transactions.

Since the amount of the transaction was small and appeared to cross international boundaries, my credit card company wasn’t inclined to pursue the case further. Happily though, my bank which issued the credit card, made up for my loss and transferred $50 into my account. I felt a bit violated by the whole affair, but I was no worse off financially. I thought that was the end of the story.

I wondered who had stolen my credit card information. The bulk of my credit card purchases were for airline tickets to see my girlfriend on the west coast. Other than that I had used the card very little, and only once had I used it in the previous few months. I had some suspicions, but nothing really made sense.

Recently I received a letter from a company called LexisNexis marked ‘Important Security Information’. The letter stated that they were writing on behalf of LexisNexis and their affiliated company Seisint because “a user ID may have been used in an unauthorized manner that allowed some personal information about you to be viewed”.

The information in the letter was a little distressing, but I wondered why this company would have information on me. I did a Google search on ‘LexisNexis Siesint’, and what I found out distressed me even more. I found an article at Infoworld.com with the following title:

LexisNexis: 280,000 more possible data theft victims

Personal information may have been exposed to unauthorized individuals

By Paul Roberts, IDG News Service
April 12, 2005

The following paragraph is an excerpt from the article:

“An in-depth review and analysis of two years' of search activity uncovered 59 incidents of unauthorized access to information, LexisNexis said in a statement. The news follows revelations in March that intruders used the IDs and passwords of legitimate LexisNexis customers to gain access to information on 30,000 people whose information was stored in "Multistate Anti-Terrorism Information Exchange," (MATRIX), a database and information retrieval system managed by LexisNexis's Seisint division. The latest report form (sic) the company expands the number of potential victims by 280,000.”

For the whole article see http://www.infoworld.com/article/05/04/12/HNmoredatatheft_1.html

My first question is why am I in a database called the “Multistate Anti-Terrorism Information Exchange”? My best guess is that I was selected for my airline ticket purchasing habits. Wasn’t this database the center of controversy a few years ago when it was discovered that the Bush Administration was selecting citizens somewhat at random and without warrants to be put in a database and scrutinized for terrorist activities? There was no accounting of who was put in the database or who had access to the data. Then I realized that the credit card I used to purchase airline tickets was the same one compromised by the Latvian fraud artist. It took 20 months for LexisNexis to send me a notification letter. Thanks a lot guys.

If this story fits together the way I think it does, then I almost have to laugh at the strange, absurd irony. The government is spying and collecting data on innocent, unsuspecting citizens. They are mining the data and fishing for criminal or terrorist activities. However they don’t make the database secure, which allows the real bad guys, possibly even terrorists, to break into the database and steal the identities and cause real harm to the innocent and unsuspecting citizens. Is this really the way our government is supposed to work?

I suppose I should be careful what I say. After all, they do have my number.

Thoughts of the trip

It's been quite a while since I wrote in this blog. I've covered a lot of ground since my last post. To summarize, I started driving west from St. Paul Minnesota. I arrived in Laramie where I put my possessions in storage and got rid of the U-haul. I drove on to Dubois where I spent a few days in my brother-in-law's hunting camp. I then drove on to Oregon, taking a route through the Tetons, southern Idaho, and the Columbia River Gorge.

I spent a couple weeks in Corvallis, Oregon, helping my girlfriend pack her belongings into another U-haul. With that done, we journeyed in a small caravan of two vehicles, my pickup and trailer, and her little SUV, to our eventual home destination of Albuquerque, New Mexico. We retraced my tracks back through the Columbia River Gorge and across southern Idaho. We cut south through Ogden, Utah, and drove through suburbs and communities nestled between the majestic Wasatch Range, and the Great Salt Lake. We turned east on I-80 across windy, southern Wyoming to Cheyenne, where we then turned south on I-25, into Colorado, through Denver, along the Front Range and into New Mexico.

It's easy to list out the route and recite all the towns I drove through. It's more difficult to answer the question that I was asked, "How did you feel about all that?" The short answer would be 'excited tiredness'. The long answer will take much more time.

It's the memories that bring out the emotions, and I remember the small fleeting things. The day I left the Twin Cities, I got up at 5:00 to take care of business. I left town in the early afternoon and drove late into the night. I was looking for a place to pull over and sleep a few hours. It was almost 2:00 a.m. and I was dead tired. I was in the Black Hills on two lane blacktop, driving south toward Custer. I found a narrow parking pullout so I stopped. I got out to check the suitability of parking there for a few hours, and as I stood in the darkness, I looked up at the millions of stars in the black, moonless sky. A chilled breeze was blowing. Then, from that darkness I heard the eerie, almost unnatural sound of birds from across the road. They were coming from a stand of trees that I could barely make out. First I heard a hoot from an owl, and then a loud screech from some kind of raptor, maybe an eagle. It sent a shiver up my spine. I had never heard an eagle screech at night. Was it screeching at me? I decided the parking area was too small, and it looked like a place where people might congregate in the morning. I didn't want to wake up with a tourist peering in my window. As I drove away my tired mind came to the realization that a bird sanctuary or a small zoo must have been hidden in the darkness of the trees. Still, I was creeped out, tired, and a little depressed. I drove on.

I remember driving through, or near, Custer Park, still looking for a place to stop and sleep. My tired eyes suddenly saw shadowy sillouettes in front of me on the road. I slowed down. My tired mind couldn't make them out, but I suspected deer, or cows. When my headlights caught them full on, I could see deer-like animals with horns. They were large, and they had a different coloring around the neck, like a mane. Elk! Then I saw more sillouettes beside the road, three on one side, then a bunch on the other, then more on the first side. I slowed the pickup to a crawl. If one would jump in front of me, I didn't know if was alert enough to avoid it. I needed to stop soon. I don't know how many were there, maybe a dozen, may fifty. Then they were gone, and I had only the dark, empty highway ahead of me. It made me feel good to see elk. It made me feel good to know there were still wild things out there, even if they lived protected in a state park.

After driving through Hot Springs, SD, I finally found a place to turn off. It wasn't really a place. It was a turnoff that ended at a wire gate to a sagebrush pasture. I didn't care. I couldn't go any further. I made sure the U-haul was off the road, and then I kicked off my shoes, laid the seat back, and slept. I slept longer than I expected, longer than I wanted. The sun was fully up, and the road was surprisingly busy. I carefully backed the U-haul onto the road and drove on again.

A coyote ran across the road at Edgemont, Wyoming, and then turned and stood near a patch of rabbitbush and watched as I drove by. What was it thinking? Surely they do think. Coyotes are adaptable and cunning. They need to be with man around. I was raised to despise them, but I admire them just he same. I have caught many glimpses of them from the road. I've felt their sharp teeth while playing with a friend's pet coyote which he raised from a pup. I have come eye-to-eye with a big male, as I sat on the edge of a meadow waiting for elk to appear. Each encounter was surprising, and somewhat awe inspiring. What did that coyote in the rabbitbush think of me? Now I am questioning what I think of him.

This move to the southwest is a transition for me. I am rethinking everything. I am throwing off the old and the boring and the familiar. I'm shaking loose from the tradition and convention. Some parts of the old system still have me in its grip, like the need for a paycheck and insurance, but I want to change what I can and see things from a new perspective. I want to see my world from the eyes of the coyote.

Benny

The house is sold, I'm on the road, and I didn't think I'd see this day. I left Minnesota on October 2nd, 2006, watching the Twin Cities slowly shrink in my rear-view mirrrors.

My traveling partner for this trip was named Benny. He was an orange canary that I had promised to deliver to my girlfriend's daughter in Laramie, Wyoming. Benny would stay in Laramie while I continued on to my girlfriend's home in Oregon. We would pick him up in a few weeks on our move from Oregon to New Mexico.

Benny acted a little agitated as we drove away from the Twin Cities. I put his cage in the passenger seat, so he could sit on his highest perch and look out the window. He flew around his cage, chirping and hopping from perch to perch until I shoved in a music CD, Los Lonely Boys. When the music started to play, Benny calmed right down. He squatted down on his perch and his eyes closed the way birds do when they sleep. I think the music got us both settled in for the long drive that was ahead of us. The miles started rolling by, and Benny sat contentedly on his hightest perch, looking out the front and side windows. I tried to keep food available for him. Before we left town, I bought red leafed lettuce and a sweet potato, both his favorites. I poked bits of veggies in the side of his cage where he could sit on his perch and nibble away.

As the day wore on and dusk started to fall, I noticed that Benny once again was becoming agitated. He flew off his perch and circled right back to the same spot. He couldn't fly far in the confines of his cage. He kept looking toward the back window of the pickup cab. He chirped and shuffled from side to side on his long perch. It looked like something in the back of the cab was bothering him. I craned my head around to look in the small dark area behind the seat. My bags and clothing were stacked behind the seat to the bottom of the rear window. Only a small, dark space was left behind my head. Then I realized the Benny was looking for a place to roost for the night. He wanted to fly into the small, dark area behind the seat to go to sleep. I didn't let him into the back of the cab, but I did pull over and then place the cloth cover over his cage. I left a small opening where I could peek into his cage to check on him as we drove into the night. That did the trick. I could see him in there, perched on his regular sleeping place. He was quiet the rest of the night.

I drove late into the night, and then pulled off the side of the road to sleep a few hours. After I woke, I drove to the next town and pulled in for gas and coffee. I found a free advertiser in the news stand and used it to reline Benny's cage. I normally clean his cage every day, but in the chaos of the last night of packing and the morning of closing on my house, Benny's world had been neglected. I found fresh water for his bird bath and cut fresh vegtables for his breakfast. Benny had a fresh cage, the pickup had a full tank of gas, and I had my coffee. We were ready for the road again.

On the final leg of the trip to Laramie, Benny acted like a seasoned traveler. He sat on his perch, against the side of the cage, as close to me as he could get. He gave me his little sideways look, the way birds do, and I could almost see him smiling. Then I realized I was smiling too. So that's the way we rode, on the last leg of our trip together from St Paul, Minnesota to Laramie, Wyoming.

I missed Benny after I left him in Laramie. As I drove toward Rawlins, I kept looking over to see how my little orange friend was doing. He wasn't there. All I saw was an empty seat. It's funny how I had made friends with that little bird. I popped in a CD, Los Lonely Boys, and settled in for the drive.

Take This Job And Shove It

Didn't Merle Haggard sing that? I'm done. Friday was my last day of work. That doesn't mean that I am retired, or that I won't work again. It means I am through with THAT job, and THAT employer. It means no more calls in the middle of the night to go in and fix problems. It means no more long weekends of grueling work. It means having weekends to myself again. For the time being, it means having evey day to myself instead of having to give up my time to the whims of my bosses.

The complex of buildings where I worked always seemed dark and sinister. I resisted going to work there, but circumstances just seemed to draw me in. The buildings are constructed of dark brick and dark glass. They sit back from the highway across a mowed grassy field, surrounded by marshlands and cornfields. They recently erected some signs and lights, but earlier the place looked dark and foreboding, especially at dusk. Before I worked there it reminded me of a modern version of a House of Frankenstein. It only needed strange lights coming from the upper windows, and storm clouds with lighning overhead to complete the scene.

I think it's good that I'm leaving. I never liked that place. In this case I am following my instincts, and they are telling me to get the heck outta there.

Exit Merle. Enter Willie. "On the road again. I just can't wait to be on the road again...."

Chaos

I really believe that a person should move every 5 years just to get rid of unused junk, and so life doesn't get boring and stale. That being said, I really detest moving. I'm living among piles and boxes. I have piles to be packed, piles to go to Goodwill, and piles that I just don't know what to do with. The thing is, my possessions are minimal compared to a lot of people. What do people do that have a lot of stuff?

So, this is my life right now. In a few weeks I'll be settling into a new place, and hopefully things will calm down a little. I'll be glad. I want to concentrate on other things. There are so many interesting people and places and ideas out there, that it is a waste and a shame to be stuck on a long-term, mundane job or routine. I thrive on new ideas. I am attracted to smart and creative people. I hope for an infusion new interests. Even though my life is chaotic with this move, it's a worthwhile investment in my psyche and my well-being.

I promised my employer that I would stay to the end of a project, and after working 12 hours on Saturday, the cut-over has been accomplished, and now it's just a matter of tying up loose ends. I am working the rest of the week, but I certainly will be concentrating on other things.

My first concern is getting moved out of my home. I have been culling and sorting and boxing, but it still looks like I have made no progress. I live pretty simply, but I am amazed at the amount of stuff I have collected over the years. My goal it to get rid of as much stuff as possible. I need to fit everything into one U-haul trailer and a small pickup bed. I want to throw off all vestiges of my former life and start completely over.

I am not entirely forsaking the memories of my past. I like to keep one or two small things in rememberance of significant people or events from my past. I have a small collection of rocks that I have picked up in my travels over the years. I pick out one rock, and I hold it in my hand, and I remember, "Oh yes, this was from my trip to the Oregon coast. It was cloudy and cool as I walked with lovely Addy, and we watched the waves breaking on the sand."

Some people have chided me about my rock collection. During a past move a person picked up a box and exclaimed, "What do you have in here, ROCKS?" I said yes, and she looked back with shocked surprise, and then burst out laughing. I have to ask why is that worse than packing knick-knacks, or bobble-heads, or any of the millions of other things that people collect? My rocks contain memories, and they connect me with the earth. Each person has their own values and priorities.

I am a man making major changes to my life. I am quitting my job and moving from Minnesota to New Mexico. My friends and co-workers are supportive, although I suspect they secretly think I'm a little crazy. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a little crazy. Some have said that they have thought about doing the same thing, but they have never had the courage to do such a thing. Well, I'm doing it.

Several factors are driving this decision. First, I have always wanted to live in the American Southwest. I like the history and the prehistory, the culture, the art, and the lifestyle that I perceive it to be.

Second, I am anxious to get back to the mountains and a dryer climate. Minnesota is beautiful for its forests and its greenery and its lakes and rivers, but it's also known for its stifling, summer humidity and damp, cold winters. I really miss dry air, cool nights and mountaintops on horizons a hundred miles away. I miss the geology, the exposed rocks, the layers, the colors, the textures, and the sense of unfathomable time.

Third, (maybe this should be first) I have met a lady. Her influence has made me realize many things about myself, and she has helped me gather the courage to make this move. Without her, I think I would have withered into an aging, lonely, insignificant man, working a soul-less job, and hopelessly clinging to a tenuous paycheck. She has made me see that life is too short, and that I need to take chances and really experience life.

The fourth reason for moving is the developing attitude I have for my job of the last 6 years. Although I make a pretty good living, I draw no spirtual sustenance from my employment. It provides no balance in my life. My employer demands more and more of my time, which I am becoming more reluctant to give up. I have survived several stressful layoffs, and this spring there was talk of still more cost cutting, which translates into yet more layoffs. For their role in the cost cutting, the people in upper management give themselves high-fives and big raises, while the guys and gals in the trenches suddenly find themselves out on the street. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't be caught in that situation again, so when the rumors of cuts started circulating this spring, I said 'enough', and I put my house on the market. I started thinning out my possessions and preparing for a change.

So here I am, packing my meager possessions under the deadline of a house closing, and preparing to drive half way across the continent to an unknown future. It should be a real trip. I was ready for a new adventure.