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ENLARGE
Editor's Note: Bill Duncan of Roseburg, who had been writing his Elder Statesman column weekly since February of 2000 for The News-Review, was killed in a car accident last Friday. He turned in this column the evening before his death.
Today is Thanksgiving, a time we pause to count our blessings. Mine are too numerous to categorize here, other than to say I have lived an extraordinary life that has been extended far beyond my expectations.
I was married on Thanksgiving Day 61 years ago to the mother of my seven children, 17 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren. That in itself is blessing enough, except that lately, two of my grandchildren seem to have been in some sort of trouble with the law, according to telephone calls my wife and I received.
The first call came to her. When you have 17 grandchildren, it is difficult at times to recognize their voices. So when my wife picked up the telephone and heard: “Hello, Grandma,” she immediately inquired which grandson was calling.
“Grandma, don't you recognize my voice?”
“Is this Michael?”
The voice became Michael and Grandma provided the rest of the information for Michael to get to the point of his call:
“Grandma, I'm in a bit of trouble. I got stopped by the police and they found a small amount of marijuana in the glove compartment and arrested me. I'm in jail in Chicago and the only way to get out of jail is that I get bail money. I was wondering if you and Grandpa could help me out.”
At this point, Grandma turned the problem over to me.
Being a newspaper reporter for 60-plus years makes a skeptic out of the best of us, so my first question to “Michael” was: “Where are you, Michael?”
“I'm in Ontario, Canada. I need bail money to get out of jail.”
“Where were you born, Michael.”
At this point I had to hush Grandma, who was prompting in the background: “Portland.”
“I'm sorry, Grandpa, we have a bad connection, I didn't hear what you asked.”
“Where were you born, Michael?”
At the point the line went dead.
Michael was a scammer preying on grandparents like ourselves to send money. These latest scams target grandparents and have caused grief right here in Douglas County and elsewhere in Oregon. Callers wait until the grandparent feeds them enough information to sound like one of their grandchildren.
My wife was in town the next day when the phone rang. I answered and the voice greeted me with: “Hello, Grandpa.”
“Who is this?”
“Grandpa, don't you recognize my voice? I'm your grandson.”
“I have 17 grandchildren, 6 are grandsons, so which one are you?”
“I'm your youngest.”
“Then you are calling from Michigan?”
“Yes.”
“Hello, Mark. How's your mother?”
“She's fine, but I'm in a little trouble and I was wondering if you could help me out.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“I was speeding on the interstate and got arrested. I am in jail and I need $800 to bail me out.”
“Why didn't you call your mother?”
“I figured you'd understand. I didn't want to worry her.”
“Give me an address to send the money.”
“You'll have to use a Western Union money order.”
“Mark, since I don't have a grandson named Mark, nor do I have any grandchildren in Michigan, I just sent the sheriff with the money order.”
Click.
Goodbye, Mark, I am not your mark.
If I were chosen as a training ground for these scammers, the training program failed. My advice to all who may get a “Dear Grandma or a Dear Grandpa” call is to not give the answers, but confound them with questions and see how quickly you hear a click.
Today is Thanksgiving, a time we pause to count our blessings. Mine are too numerous to categorize here, other than to say I have lived an extraordinary life that has been extended far beyond my expectations.
I was married on Thanksgiving Day 61 years ago to the mother of my seven children, 17 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren. That in itself is blessing enough, except that lately, two of my grandchildren seem to have been in some sort of trouble with the law, according to telephone calls my wife and I received.
The first call came to her. When you have 17 grandchildren, it is difficult at times to recognize their voices. So when my wife picked up the telephone and heard: “Hello, Grandma,” she immediately inquired which grandson was calling.
“Grandma, don't you recognize my voice?”
“Is this Michael?”
The voice became Michael and Grandma provided the rest of the information for Michael to get to the point of his call:
“Grandma, I'm in a bit of trouble. I got stopped by the police and they found a small amount of marijuana in the glove compartment and arrested me. I'm in jail in Chicago and the only way to get out of jail is that I get bail money. I was wondering if you and Grandpa could help me out.”
At this point, Grandma turned the problem over to me.
Being a newspaper reporter for 60-plus years makes a skeptic out of the best of us, so my first question to “Michael” was: “Where are you, Michael?”
“I'm in Ontario, Canada. I need bail money to get out of jail.”
“Where were you born, Michael.”
At this point I had to hush Grandma, who was prompting in the background: “Portland.”
“I'm sorry, Grandpa, we have a bad connection, I didn't hear what you asked.”
“Where were you born, Michael?”
At the point the line went dead.
Michael was a scammer preying on grandparents like ourselves to send money. These latest scams target grandparents and have caused grief right here in Douglas County and elsewhere in Oregon. Callers wait until the grandparent feeds them enough information to sound like one of their grandchildren.
My wife was in town the next day when the phone rang. I answered and the voice greeted me with: “Hello, Grandpa.”
“Who is this?”
“Grandpa, don't you recognize my voice? I'm your grandson.”
“I have 17 grandchildren, 6 are grandsons, so which one are you?”
“I'm your youngest.”
“Then you are calling from Michigan?”
“Yes.”
“Hello, Mark. How's your mother?”
“She's fine, but I'm in a little trouble and I was wondering if you could help me out.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“I was speeding on the interstate and got arrested. I am in jail and I need $800 to bail me out.”
“Why didn't you call your mother?”
“I figured you'd understand. I didn't want to worry her.”
“Give me an address to send the money.”
“You'll have to use a Western Union money order.”
“Mark, since I don't have a grandson named Mark, nor do I have any grandchildren in Michigan, I just sent the sheriff with the money order.”
Click.
Goodbye, Mark, I am not your mark.
If I were chosen as a training ground for these scammers, the training program failed. My advice to all who may get a “Dear Grandma or a Dear Grandpa” call is to not give the answers, but confound them with questions and see how quickly you hear a click.
