Author: R J Adams

These things happen. You wake up one morning. All is apparently well with your world. You have breakfast, send the wife off to work, and then with no warning whatever you realize something is terribly wrong.

This morning, it was when I repaired to the den to commence work and noticed the little red LED light flashing on and off. With two desktop computers, a laptop, Tivo, and a VoIP phone system, the occasional flashing light from a myriad technological gizmos necessary for any state-of-the-art home network these days, is nothing to get concerned about.

But this one seemed somehow different. It blinked balefully and somewhat mournfully, like you’d expect an LED to behave if it had suddenly been issued with the unenviable task of announcing the end of the world.

Undaunted, I was certain it was just needed power-cycling. These things happen. There’d been a thunderstorm in the night. Probably, the electric had died momentarily, triggering this problem. I unplugged the gizmos, waited the necessary half-minute, then carefully re-inserted each power cord into its correct orifice. Slowly, the gizmos woke up, looked about them, and began settling to their steady rhythm of yellow-green LED chatter, just as normal. Until, the one turned from yellow to bright red and began its doleful, doom-laden blink once more.

It was the gizmo for the VoIP phone, so I picked up the handset and listened. All seemed well. The comforting burr of the dial tone gently assailed my eardrum. I dialed my wife’s work number. An answering machine picked up the call, as I expected. It was too early for the telephonists to be at their desks. I replaced the receiver. The little red LED still blinked unremittingly back at me.

Now, I’m the sort of person who needs conformity. If something is doing what it shouldn’t, even though all seems well, I have to find out why. Some people can happily drive their cars halfway around the world with the “Check Engine Light” glaring at them out the dashboard. Not I. It’s into the curb and call for a tow-truck if there is so much as a flicker.

Consequently, two seconds later found me punching out the number of the phone company’s twenty-four hour customer service desk. It wasn’t the first time. I was on familiar terms with some of the staff. As soon as I’d give them my phone number, the response invariably came back:

“Oh, it’s RJ, I thought I recognized that British accent.”

On this occasion, however, no cheery voice returned my greeting. In fact, I never got chance to offer a greeting. An answering machine, in that tone of voice indicative of someone in a desperate hurry to escape the office, stated briefly, and hurriedly:

“We are not taking any customer service calls at this time. Goodbye.”

A momentary picture flashed through my mind – the radio-operator on the Titanic, last to leave the ship, sending his final desperate SOS before dashing to the rail and plunging into icy seas, just seconds before the liner slid forever beneath the waters of the North Atlantic.

Three attempts later, I gave up on trying to beat that mercurial answering message. Something was very wrong.

Readers of Sparrow Chat from its Blogger days, may well recollect – about twelve months ago – how enthusiastically I ranted about my new VoIP phone service. An up and coming company offering great value, fantastic service, free gizmo, and the promise of more technological delights for its customers as they grew in business stature.

That company was SunRocket.

Today, after checking out SunRocket on the internet to discover why its customer support service was down, I found out SunRocket is also down, for good. Belly up. Bankrupt.

And then it struck me. Only last week I’d paid them another $200 year’s subscription. Darn it, I’d get that back! I paid with a credit card. Reaching for the phone, I dialed the card company’s helpline.

What’s up, here? Why isn’t it ringing? Don’t tell me they’re bankrupt as well! Damn it, there’s no dial tone!

Perplexed, I glanced up at the VoIP gizmo. For a moment all seemed fine. Then, as I watched, the little red LED light blinked very rapidly five or six times, like a dying man struggling for one final desperate breath of life, and, as I stared, it finally went out for good.

Filed under: And some you lose

As the Roman Catholic Church shells out another huge monetary sum – some $660 million – as blood money to yet more victims of its abuse, this time in Los Angeles, one has to wonder at the sheer temerity and arrogance of that institution’s present leader, Benedict XVI. Only last week he reaffirmed through his Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith – of which, as Cardinal Ratzinger, he was once the head – that the Roman Catholic Church is the only true church.

Do these people expect us to treat them with any respect?

There are certain similarities between the position of the Roman Catholic Church in the religious world, and the United States of America in the political one. Both are claiming some God-given right to exalted leadership, while sanctifying corruption, perversion, inhumanity, and greed. Comparisons can be drawn between Benedict XVI and George W Bush. Each is narrow-minded, lacking vision, and retains a perception of the world that has failed to keep pace with modernity. As the many Protestant churches protest Benedict’s leadership proclamation, so do other nations stand in horror as the USA continues its preemptive power struggle in the Middle East.

For those individuals capable of stringing together two or more relevant thoughts coherently, the very concepts of politicians and clergymen have become anathema.

Filed under: Power plays

And so this short break in Michigan’s Upper Peninsular draws to a close. Friday will find me on the road, back to the heat, humidity, and eternal flatness of Central Illinois.

The western Upper Peninsular has been an escape into paradise. Lush greenery, cool clear streams, verdant hillsides, lakes the size of inland seas. Above all, the weather has been so typically British.

Of the places visited, Houghton is without doubt the most appealing town. Nestled among hills on the banks of Portage Lake, this delightfully compact municipality has a sense of character frequently lacking in small town America.

At the bottom of Main Street, a sharp right-hander leads one without warning onto a glorious example of a double decked vertical lift bridge. In fact, built in 1959, it’s the widest and heaviest of its type in the world.

The main thoroughfare from Marquette to Houghton bejewels the traveler with a myriad of delights, not least the magnificence of Lake Michigamme as viewed from a roadside rest spot.

Marquette is a great base to explore the western Upper Peninsular. The harbor area on Lake Superior is a good place for a stroll in the evening and the sheer size of the old iron ore dock, built in 1911 and rumored to be still commercially active, dominates the view.

Sixty or so miles south of Marquette is Escanaba. While the town itself is not particularly impressive, its frontage onto Lake Michigan most certainly is. The large marina is a pleasure to stroll around, or just sit and admire the many boats entering and leaving its compact harbor, though some are definitely too large to be accommodated among the many yachts and sportsboats.

Even if you’re not into boating, the adjacent parkland with its ornamental fountain and acres of recreational space are there to be enjoyed to the full.

And……no, I didn’t stand and salute the flag. Sorry!

Sadly, I will be leaving it all behind me for now, but I’ll return to Illinois with fresh hope that one day, hopefully in the not too distant future, I’ll be coming back.

Filed under: It had to be good somewhere