J.P. Morgan - customer service? I don't think so.

So, I left around 9:30 am to run errands this morning. My husband was on the phone already at that time waiting to talk to somebody at J.P. Morgan about a problem with his credit card. When I came home almost 2 hours later, he was still waiting to talk to a customer service representative. He gave up at 11:30 am because he has better things to do and the phone battery was beginning to run out.
Why do companies do that? Put you on hold when it's quite obvious that nobody is going to answer the phone? I realize it's the holiday season and people have time off. Why not just put a notice on there saying that there's nobody available to help you and to call back after New Year's? Two hours really seems excessive to me.


Bridget and Sebastian

The presents have been unwrapped, the turkey is in the oven and I have a bit of downtime. So, here are a couple of pictures of the cutest presents I received. Actually, only one of them is mine, the brown one. That's Sebastian. The blue one is Bridget and belongs to my husband. Don't they make a cute couple? :-)

And this is what little Jerry looks like after a tough day at the groomer. And his last visit really was tough - we dropped him off at 9 am and didn't get him back until 5:30 pm.


Deja vu

This is a link to the article in San Francisco Magazine I already posted, but this version is so much easier to read than the previous one:

Gone San Francisco online

There are comments, but none like the vicious ones in the Chronicle, these are all sympathetic.

In a few more minutes I will light candles, one for Henry, the others for other young people who have died much too young.


The latest newsletter from the Bridge Rail Foundation

Rather than copying and pasting - which gets kind of messy looking - I went to look for the link to the latest newsletter:

It's not over, there's still more work to be done. Let's hope it'll work, the funds will be found and there'll be an end to the needless deaths in this particular location.
And something I'm quite excited about: I learned to apply a copyright symbol to my photos. Took quite a bit of trial and error and frustration, but I finally figured out how to do it not only once but again and again. I think there's hope for me (on the computer) yet. :-)


San Francisco Magazine

I've been debating for a few days whether I should link to this article or not and decided to do it after all.
We talked to a journalist this past summer about Henry. She wanted to write about teenage suicides on the Golden Gate Bridge and explains why in the beginning of her article. It's a long article, "amazingly awkward" to read, according to my friend Marilee (and I fully agree) but it's well written and get quite a few points across.
I can't get the direct link to work - and I don't think it's me - so here is a link to the cover of the magazine:
Modern Luxury - Digital Editions
Either page through to page 127 for the beginning of the article, or go to 138 for the bit about Henry, or go to contents and click on "Gone."


An evening with Michael Pritchard

Tuesday evening, we attended a presentation by Michael Pritchard. I had been under the impression that it would be a drug seminar. It wasn't, but I am still very glad we went.
Mr. Pritchard is a motivational speaker (and, yes, he throws in religion) and this talk was directed more at the teenagers in the audience but also at their parents. He's a comedian, very obviously, reminds me very much of John Goodman and Robin Williams (not on drugs). He can quote poetry (Kalil Gibran) and scripture, all at the drop of a hat and spoke without a script. He does voices and sound effects and mixes humor and funny stories with a very serious message: be kind to each other, don't talk trash, don't pick on others. You never know, the fat little girl you used to tease so mercilessly in 3rd grade may just turn out to be the ER doctor who sews up the big gash in your head 20 or 30 years later and she will remember you. Among the funny stories about his own kids and the kids he encounters were stories of working with Special Olympics and mentally disabled adults and how special these people really are (and how funny they can be and how loving). My favorite was the one about the adults he took to a Giants game and the usher who wouldn't show them to their seats until "a responsible adult showed up" and one of the guys turning to him and saying, "Hey, Mike. He thinks you're retarded, too." Very matter-of-fact.
We were able to talk to him afterwards and told him a little about Henry and he asked us to write to him and tell him the whole story and he told us he'd pray for us. Never having been much of a churchgoer until last year, I am always touched when somebody tells me that and I am working on a letter to him. I just discovered that brevity isn't my strong point anymore :-) so I need to keep editing.