Password here, password there, passwords, passwords everywhere

I would like to think it is not because of my age that passwords are wrecking havoc with my brain lately. It was fine in the beginning when only a few were needed. It would be the same unguessable but simple word, adding a sequential number if it had to be updated. All of sudden, a password is needed to access anything! Want to order a pizza? Want to shop online? Want to play a game? Want to check your spam e-mail? Want to get a haircut? Passwords needed.

When searching on-line, (using a password, of course,) I learned that the use of passwords is ancient. Knights would knock on the doors of castles and whisper the password of the day in order to save the damsel in distress. During prohibition, alcohol seekers would knock on a back room door in order to enter the forbidden world of drinking alcohol. Today we use a written form of the password in order to enter the secret lairs of the programs on our computer. They are used to authenticate that we are who we are.

These days, I don’t know if I am who I am. In addition to an explosion of additional sites needed one, the passwords have become increasingly complex. Some require a “special character”. Santa Claus? The Tooth Fairy? My Aunt Margaret who is very eccentric? Just WHAT type of special character are they talking about? They all require a distinct arrangement of numbers and letters, some capitalized, some not. The problem is that each site is different. I have several variations of my password, each one to fulfill different requirements. However, trying each variation gets me locked out for too many tries. Then I am stuck answering my “security questions”, another disaster in the making. I inevitably get the questions I don’t remember. “What is the name of your first pet?” I am 60 years old, I can’t remember back that far. “What is the name of your best friend?” The answer to that depends on when I answered the question…best friend 20 years ago? 10 years ago? Yesterday? “What was your first grade teacher’s name?” AGAIN, 55 years ago, DUH! So there I am, trying desperately to order something, or access something, or play something and I am locked out for too many tries and not knowing the answers to my security questions.

A statement on the web from lifehacker.com fits me perfectly: the best password is one you can’t remember, so write it down. My problem is, I can’t remember where I wrote it down!

 

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A Flash Back of the Good Kind

My kiddos, Marie and Angel, both have flashbacks to their early childhood abuse. From out of no where, a scent might set Angel off, or a man somewhat resembling a perpetrator might set Marie off, and they are both deep in the world of bad thoughts. I know it can happen, but never gave it much thought until today. When I had a flashback that set me off on a nostalgic ride of good thoughts.

I was pursuing the bargains at JC Penney’s, picking out a cute grey sweater to ward off the cold while waiting for the spring that I know is supposed to arrive any day now. Soon. When the mountains of snow melt… But for now I wear sweaters.

While waiting in line, I admired the clothes on the counter ready to be purchased. They were a blouse and sweater in pastel colors, the colors that are supposed to look best on me according to my “color chart”. (Of course I never find the appropriate color clothes because I only buy clothes deeply discounted; the browns, the blacks and the greys.) On the cashier’s counter lay two different colors of beige pants, a light pastel peach colored sweater with pearl buttons on the neck and three quarter length sleeves, and a light pink, sophisticated shirt, wrinkle-less with a stiff collar. The clothes screamed success and professionalism.

Looking at the woman buying them, I noticed she was about my age, with hair dyed a honey blonde and a middle aged waist holding up a pair of jeans. What struck me most was her relationship with the woman she was with. The two of them were giggling conspiratorially, pointing at the clothes with a look of accomplishment. Almost giddy. The other woman was much older, in her 80’s, with similarly colored hair and body frame. They kissed lightly, among their smiles, and as they walked away with the bagged items, the first woman hugged the other and said, “Thanks!” It struck me that it was a daughter and her mother, and the mother was buying her daughter some clothes for her work. As old as the first woman was, her mom still wanted to care for her and to buy her the perfect clothes, probably for a special occasion, like her birthday. Today.

This scene ignited such an emotional flash back for me that I almost cried out. That could have been me and my mother if she was still alive. For my birthday, she would always take me shopping to buy two wonderful outfits that I would not have been able to afford otherwise. They would be in my perfect colors, and we wouldn’t care if they were on sale or not. Even as she aged and entered a nursing home, I’d still bring her out in her wheelchair to shop. I was her child and she was my mother, caring for me and making me happy. She was especially conscientious to remember my birthday, when her mothering was still acceptable.

My heart is still happy/sad after seeing the women in JC Penney’s, and I sit here typing this with tears in my eyes, trying not to let them fall. Today is especially meaningful for me. Today is my birthday. And I did not get any new clothes….