I’ve been doing a lot of listening to recordings of people singing in church in the early 60s in Tennessee. This sound is one I recognize. And while these are not churches where my Dad was pastor, this sound is very familiar to me and probably is close to what I heard at First Church of God in Greeneville, Tennessee. I remember visiting my Grandfather at Broyles Chapel Tennessee where he moved for his final pastorate. This is the site of these recordings. My Grandfather was a man of gadgets. I can picture him having an usher manning the Wollensak tape recorder (If indeed, it was a Wolensak. That’s how I picture it). It must have seemed like a new-fangled device the preacher from Maryland brought with him to the mountain community.
Yesterday, after meeting with my boss and practicing, I went to Bibles for Mexico. I was looking for a large print Bible for my Mom and a turntable for myself. As I was sitting in the parking lot, I received a skype invitation from my daughter, Sarah, who lives in England. I love tech. I sat and chatted with her for a bit before going into the thrift shop.
I didn’t find a Bible or a turntable. I did find about $20 worth of collections of solo voice and opera arias. Very cool.
About this time I realized I was probably avoiding calling Social Security about a recent screw up. For some reason my Mom didn’t get her direct deposit check from Social Security for January 2016.
I gathered all my info around me and made the call. I was skeptical they would talk to me instead of Mom. A while back, Eileen and I went to the local Social Security office on behalf of Mom. They kept us waiting and when they finally saw us told us they couldn’t talk to me even though I have power of attorney. I had to bring Mom to authorize me as a representative. Sheesh. Since we were on a mission to solve some problem (I forget which one), this wasn’t helpful. And I didn’t feel like dragging Mom from the nursing home to get authorized. Too hard on her.
So anyway, I talked to the Social Security robot for a while, pushing numbers and shouting responses to get through the fucking phone tree. At one point, the robot wanted to “gather some information” from me. He assured me that they were within their rights to ask these questions. Then a new robot said that if I gave false information I could get put in jail and fined.
This discouraged me from answering with Mom’s info when they asked questions. I hung up and took a different path on the phone tree trying to talk to an agent (you know, a live person).
Finally I got on the waiting list. The new robot informed me my wait time would probably be 35 minutes. I was basically calling to make sure I couldn’t take care of this without bothering Mom. When the robot told me the wait time, I put on my coat and walked to my Mom’s nursing home. This is a form of exercise for me and I was already planning on doing this.
Now walking while on hold with the Social Security office I was hoping that I could arrive at Mom’s before I got an agent. Long story short: I did. Good grief.
Every year Social Security sends Mom (me) a form in which she is supposed to state if her pension income (from other sources) has changed and how. I’m pretty sure I sent this letter in, but Social Security did not get it. They’re response was to suspend Mom’s checks.
They are now sending me another request form to fill out. It’s possible I didn’t do it right and the bureaucrat trashed the letter and suspended Mom’s account. Or I guess it could have gotten lost in the mail.
Interesting take on evolving ways to do social activism.
Only refers to Trump as “The real estate developer.” I like that.
This sounds like fun
This is not encouraging.