All is Mystery

"All is mystery; but he is a slave who will not struggle to penetrate the dark veil."

Benjamin Disraeli

In the fall of 1982, I was in Chicago for an American Medical Association sponsored meeting on jail health care. At the time, I was staff person to a project in Pennsylvania to improve health care rendered in county jails.

The contents of that meeting were quite sufficient to occupy me. But as I turned on the television in my hotel room, I had the sudden overwhelming need to call home. True, I minded being away from home--at the time, our daughter was just a year old. While Dad could cope quite well, I always checked in. This time, however, the need to call was prompted by the news.

There had been a series of unexplained deaths in the immediate Chicago area, all of them linked to people who had recently bought and taken Tylenol. And the national news was reporting hourly of another death. The only link--Tylenol, that turned out to have been tampered with. My message home--I am fine, and--no--I have not bought any Tylenol.

Fast forward 27 years, and once again the Tylenol poisonings are in the news today. The New York Times reports that the FBI has searched a building where a man connected with the Tylenol poisonings now lives.

Whether or not today's news indicates a near term solving of this long time mystery remains to be seen. I certainly hope so--it is incomprehensible to me why someone would do such a thing--take capsules, open them and insert cyanide, and then reseal the capsules. Not only did the person who committed this crime cause the death of 7 people, but he (or she) has forever altered the way we all live. Next time you struggle to open a tamper-proof container, that is now shrink-wrapped, plastic sealed, and foil-covered--thank (or curse) the Tylenol poisonings perpetrator.

Immediately after the cessation of deaths, the makers of Tylenol--and every other vulnerable company--went to work to make it obvious whether a container has been opened. The lack of such packaging is what made it possible for the Tylenol poisonings to take place. But, frankly, who would have thought that some nut would do all that was involved with that scare?

Mostly, I have a mind that likes to "penetrate the dark veil." I now know who Deep Throat was; I don't really care about D.B. Cooper, and Judge Crater disappeared long before I was born. Maybe next we'll know who the Tylenol murderer is. It will be another mystery solved.

Any dark veil mysteries you are puzzling over?

Ah! Sweet Mystery. . .

Remember the errant suitcase that sat in the hallway, that caused me to conjure up visions of mischief? Or worse--bombs? Read the back story here.

I feared this mystery would never be solved, that I would have to live out my life not knowing what was in the suitcase. Time was--I only wanted to live long enough to know who Deep Throat was. Now we know---and I am amazed to find new mysteries to consume me.

Anyway, enough teasing--mystery revealed. Today, the bay secretary (that's the term given to the person who works to support all those of us whose offices are arranged around a common bay of printers and copiers) came into my office and said, sotte voce, a name. I looked up, puzzled and said--huh?

So and so, she repeated. Seeing my furrowed brow, she added--that's who left the suitcase in the hall. Ah! The name she had said was of a long-time professor here--in fact, he was the example number two in this previous post. It seems he likes to store things in the suitcase. . .for his Saturday class. Huh? I saw it in the hall on a Tuesday, and it had been sitting there all day.

How, you might wonder, did his ownership finally become clear? Even though he had left it in the hallway all day, he apparently went to look for it late in the day, and upon discovering it missing, called Lost and Found. Someone, he said, seems to have stolen my suitcase. Since Security is the department that removed it, it took a while for Lost and Found and Security to make the connection.

So, now I have a new mystery--why on the earth would a grown man, who has his own office--that he shares with NO ONE--need to carry around his "things"--whatever that may include--throughout the week, until his Saturday class? Hmmmm? Why indeed!

Another Mystery Solved

I like mysteries. Among my favorite books to read are mysteries. I think I like them because most mysteries can be solved by an application of logic. Of course, you need all the relevant information to be able to apply the logic.

Several weeks back, I posted about the mystery of missing birds. Then I saw the peregrine (which I have seen many times before zooming through, but never roosting, watching and waiting), and the mystery was solved.

Well, on a recent Saturday morning around 10 a.m. I was sitting at my computer, doing the usual check of emails, websites, blogs I like to read when the phone rang. As it happens, my husband was at a Saturday meeting, and I though it might be him, calling to see if I was awake (ahem, I do sometimes like to sleep in. . .but never until 10 a.m.). Anyway, the phone rang.

So, I answered with my usual “hello.” Nothing fancy, no “This is the ***** residence.” And no unusual pronunciation of Hello, either. I had an aunt from western Pennsylvania who always answered “Yellow” in a kind of up-tilt of voice. And my mother-in-law, who had worked as a telephone operator back in the days when they had such things, always answered as she had been trained—HUDDO.

Anyway, I answered plain Hello. The voice on the other end said, tentatively, “Is this M & * Bank?” No—I said. That number is the same as this one, except it has a different area code. Ahhhh—you might be wondering. Why would I be so forthcoming with such information instantaneously? Well, we’ve gotten such calls before. Many times.

Since I was so helpful, the voice on the other end said—well, the Internet lists it as this number and area code. AHA. Mystery finally solved! But, why would the M & * website give the wrong number for one of its branches? Oh no, said the voice—not the bank; it’s on the Yah** site that way.

AHA, AHA! Now we are getting somewhere. I had all along suspected (after all, it is a mystery) that it couldn’t be the bank that was giving out wrong information. And it didn’t make sense that the Internet sites that are telephone directories would have it wrong. Now, it was solved—a search engine somehow coded in the incorrect information.

So, off I went to the Yah** site, did a search, and BOOM back came our home address and phone number as a location for an M & * bank in our area. And Yah** even offered to “map it” and give directions. Thank goodness, we never had anyone show up at our house. Double thank-goodness since we have had a rash of petty bank robberies lately. I think if a bank robber did show up, I would say—excuse me, sir, we don’t serve any customers here who wear baseball hats, hoods, or stockings over their faces.

So, I wrote a review on the Yah** website at the so-called bank listing, and said—THIS INFORMATION IS INCORRECT. Then I gave the business a one-star rating.

Now the next objective will be to see how long it takes either Yah** or M & * to change their information. (As of when I posted this blog, Yah** still has our phone number and home address listed as the local M & *.)

As I said, mystery solved.
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Have you solved any mysteries recently?

Where have all the birds gone. . .

For many years, we had bird feeders hanging from a green ash tree next to our sun porch. Mostly, we filled these feeders with sunflower seeds, and they were very popular. Over time, we attracted squirrels in addition to various birds. And, over time, a thick layer of sunflower shells built up on the lawn below the feeders, squelching out any growth underneath.

So, a couple of years ago, we gave up on the bird feeders. For some reason, though, this winter, we (maybe make that I) decided to have another go at bird feeders. The day we filled our first feeder, we were hit with an ice storm. So, there hung the new bird feeder, with icicles. But with a bit of time, birds began to return. Nothing fancy--some sparrows (no doubt, the ubiquitous house variety), a few purple finches, some black-capped chickadees, a titmouse or two, and some cardinals.

We have not been over-run with birds, and so far no squirrels have found the feeders--there are now two feeders.

Then suddenly, NO birds. I mean--NO BIRDS. That got me very curious.

So I went outside and looked around. And then I saw it--on a neighbor's tree. Just watching. Maybe, just looking over the menu.



Yup. The peregrine is back. I thought I saw it the other day--dive bombing the neighborhood. Actually, it is quite astonishing how this peregrine can come swooping through, like a fighter bomber on a mission. A blur of feathers flying through several feet off the ground, unerringly avoiding any obstacle, except for some hapless bird.



Well, I will just have to let nature take its course. The only thing I can promise--no bird crime scene sleuthing for me. If I find a pile of feathers, trust me--it will go unexamined, unphotographed. But I will have a pretty good idea of what happened.