If it’s too good to be true — you must be shopping on Facebook

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Mostly I shop local.

I have ordered a few of my picnic items from Etsy. I only had one issue — the table that FedEX “misdelivered” to California — you know, because Pennsylvania is so like California. Anyway, the seller made good on it and hopefully FEDEX settled with him. Who knows. The guy, from Turkey, has made 759 sells at $200…do the math. (He was super nice, by the way.)
But…On occasion, I order from those Instagram/Facebook ads. Nearly 100% of the products come from China. I have heard of horror stories of the items never shipping, being too small (think “tiny sectional” small), or just being the wrong item.
I know what you’re thinking: this is going to be good.
Yes. It is.
I have THREE outstanding orders from those “too-good-to-be-true” Insta/Facebook ads dating back to August.
I ordered via Paypal and each of them have the seller in China. (Note: I have received some orders in the past that although they took MONTHS to come, arrived as described more or less. More less.)
So, yesterday I get this random package from China. I have lots of students, my mentee and my “daughter” who live in Shanghai, so I figured they sent me something because it was small.
It was a necklace. A black swan. Stainless steel. Random. If you KNOW me, you KNOW I do not wear necklaces. Maybe a long handcrafted number, but never anything against my neck. It’s just not me. So, I knew I did not order it. So, I head to “We Chat” and ask a few of my students and Stella. Nope. Not them. Hmmmmmm…
I’m a journalist (by nature), so I simply first search the name in my work email. Nothing. Then my personal email. Nothing. Then my friend GOOGLE: “chenlong-DZ”
Winner! I uncover this site where the answers to all my questions about this crystal black swan in my mailbox:
I quickly see other suckers…I mean customers…I mean suckers, like me who have been taken for hard earned cash. (Well, money that I acquired decorating tiny tables in the park.)
I feel relieved that I am not the only sucker:
Moe 08/20/2021 at 07:55 AM
“I order a carpet cleaner these clowns send me a kitchen glove
first time ordering on line and will be the last.”
Krystal 08/20/2021 at 10:21 AM
I ordered a 10 by 10 pop up tent and they sent me a a kitchen glove wth (YIKES — I order this too! Got a black swan necklace!)
By the way, I am laughing my ass off as I am writing this. They did not scam me out of my humor.
But, let’s keep looking at the comments…
Mudmansimon 08/20/2021 at 01:35 PM
They got me to… Guess what… An over mitt.
Lee 09/19/2021 at 03:48 PM
I ordered a wire pumpkin wagon lawn decoration and received a crappy necklace
Kenneth 09/14/2021 at 01:45 PM
I can’t recall ordering ANYTHING yet I received a bright pink satin shower cap in the mail. No note, no invoice, nothing enclosed with it. Who needs it? Who wants it? Jeez.
Angel Smith 09/01/2021 at 11:08 AM
I ordered a Ball Electric Canner…I received a pair of socks…this is BULLSHIT!!!!
I am literally crying and laughing so hard, I may have peed my PJs. ( Sorry, not sorry). You must laugh at yourself if you think you can get a CRICUT machine or PS5 for $40. Or, in my case, a folding picnic table, popup tent, or canopy each for less than $50 + shipping. I have to admit, I sometimes JUST have to roll the dice. You know. Take a risk. Live dangerously. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas kind of approach. As with love, online shopping, especially via INSTA and Facebook ads, is the ultimate gamble.
Sometimes you win.
And other times, you’re like:
Sleptrock 08/24/2021 at 03:20 PM
Ordered a grow tent got a shower cap.
A shower cap! He ordered a tent! He. ordered a tent and got a shower cap!
I would love to be “ChenLong- DZ” sitting around his/her factory deciding what piece of crap item to send to some foolish buyer in Bellefonte, Pa., United States.
A pink tshirt? Socks? Or, a black swan necklace? Wait…I still have two more orders. What on earth will I receive? (I could use an oven mitt)
Poor Ken …he is so pissed, he can’t even curse correctly.
Ken 10/01/2021 at 10:47 AM
I ordered Redwing Shoes and received chicken shit ring. Bunch of Bull Shit Dick head company scammers.
Breathe, Ken. It’s only money. (Who said that?)
God, You knew I needed this laugh. I hope you all are laughing WITH me.
And, please, share any stories of being scammed. Photos if you have them! And, please share this so no one else has to write an entry: “Ordered a foldable picnic table, received a _______ TBD.”
I have filed three claims to PAYPAL to return my $170, and. remove this scam account. I know it’s a long shot, but I will HOUND PAYPAL like that damn car warranty lady.

Daddy: The Good Neighbor

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This morning at 6 a.m. as I was brushing the snow off my unheated JEEP and shoveling the snow from all around it, I thought about how my dad would always shovel Miss Irene’s driveway and sidewalk. She didn’t have to ask — ever. No payment asked for; no payment received.

Miss Irene was an older single woman and lived alone across the street from us on Oakwood Avenue in Saginaw. She owned an A&W across town. Sometimes she brought us rootbeers … sometimes hotdogs. Always a smile, a kind word.

I guess daddy wanted to make sure Miss Irene was safe because he always parked his truck in her driveway to make folks “think” someone was home (when she wasn’t) and make folks think someone was with her (when they weren’t) especially at night.

He always looked out for Miss Irene and other neighbors. Shoveling. Cutting their grass. Fixing something.

This is what neighbors do.
This is a true neighborhood.
This was America.

We could learn so much from that generation.

I hope you are being kind to your neighbors.

#iammyfathersdaughter
#GodBlessAmerica
#blessedbeyondmeasure

The Confirmation

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Confirmation.
I often search for people in my past for various reasons. Last month, I was looking through old newspaper clippings from when I was a reporter at The Morning Sun (working parttime at Off Broadway for Tari Lynn Barrera and a full time student at CMU). I did a feature story on fashion back in 1986 — I also appeared in some of the photos. (The perks.)
I remember the shoot well because I had met this young guy (younger than me) named Keith Johnson. He was a townie who had a Tyson Beckford-ish vibe before Tyson was even on the scene. I think I just saw him at a store. Tari Lynn and I convinced the shy kid to do the photo shoot — and that he was a natural.
Fast forward December 2021 when I am looking at the yellowed, worn newspaper clipping I dug up from the bottom of my box containing my portfolio.
I think I actually posted the photo on Twitter that night.
Then I Googled his name and Mt. Pleasant, Michigan. It was a long shot because it was so many years ago.
An obituary finally came up.
Wait…what?
I read it, but refusing to believe it was him because there wasn’t a photo. Then, I saw the words “freelance model.”
I still didn’t believe I had the correct person. I think I spent 5 hours that night searching, Googling, reading every name, every detail of that obituary. Looking at archives of MPHS yearbooks. Ancestry.com (my new fav search engine)
I read all of the comments on Legacy dating back to December 2004.
I was deep down an emotional rabbit hole.
I could not find ONE photo of this “Keith Johnson” in the obituary which also included words like “your senseless, untimely death.” More clues.
I started another search: news articles about accidents with his name, Chicago.
And there it was: “Chicago man killed in a Florida park
By From news services
Chicago Tribune
•
December 07, 2004
A Chicago mortgage broker and part-time model from Chicago was found stabbed to death last week in a Florida state park.
Keith Johnson, 37, was found the morning of Nov. 30 by a boater at Lovers Key State Park in Ft. Myers Beach. The Lee County Sheriff’s Office said it is investigating the slaying, but would not release many details about the crime.
The News-Press of Ft. Myers reported that Johnson, who was visiting Florida for business, died of stab wounds to the back and chest. A working cell phone and wallet with ID were found with his body.
He is survived by his wife, and 3-year-old daughter.”
Still… there are no photos.
I can’t confirm it. I refuse to believe it.
I search Facebook for any member of his family— these folks are like ghosts, I think out loud. I find a woman with the same name in the obituary who is a model. She is stunning. I message her but she understandably doesn’t respond; she was only three at the time. But the model thing connects. It makes sense because Keith and his wife ( there were photos of her and the daughter on the obituary comments) are insanely gorgeous.
But I am not convinced likely because I am still so emotional about losing my dad, that I am not even ready to believe that an acquaintance from College has died.
I even message the Lee County Sheriff Cold Case. They said they would update me.
I just need a photo.
Why aren’t there any photos?
I just need confirmation.
I let it go.
But it hounds me that this trained journalist can’t confirm this story. I don’t want to believe it. Those of you who went to Journalism School know the rule: “Your mother says she loves you, confirm that shit.”
Anyway, last night I take a much needed emotional break from watching Women of the Movement: the story of Emmett Till’s mom’s battle to get justice.
It’s way past 11 p.m. EST
But, I go at it again.
This time I go through the friends of people I think maybe related to see if any of the same names appear in the obituary and the Friends list. (Yes, I am invested.)
I see three names connected in a guy I think may be Keith’s brother. (Their Facebook pages are not public so I cannot see photos). One guy was James Griffith. I put Keith’s name in HIS profile, and hit the search function.
My heart was beating fast with anticipation. It seemed to take forever, but it was only one second.
There it is: “My cousin Keith Allen Johnson, RIP” with a photo of that trademark intense glare, perfect jawline.
I don’t know if it was the emotions from being reminded of the brutal killing of Emmett Till, or the confirmation that 18 years ago another Black man was murdered and there has been no justice…but
I am shaking…Heartbroken.
I just stare at those eyes.
I get up, drink some wine.
I stare at the photo on Facebook, drag it to my crowded Desktop…compare it to my clipping — then message the cousin because even though I see the two photos, I need to hear the words.
Surprisingly, the cousin responds a few hours later.
He confirms it. “Yes, he was murdered.”
He wrote that Keith was murdered “by two white men,” stabbed in the heart and tossed in the gutter. He said police know who the men— who fled to Canada— are yet would not extradite.
Confirmation.
I only knew Keith for a short time. I just remember him being young. I remember that smile. I remember him being shy. Funny. Humble about his good looks. The kind of guy that you would label “a sweetheart,” maybe even a “mamma’s boy.”
I reread his obituary and the comments from his friends, wife and daughter— dating back to 2004 — it all confirms that at age 37, Keith Johnson had indeed grown to be even more amazing. (read below, link in comment)
He was a husband, father, real estate wiz, caretaker of an elderly mentor, retired US Navy Vet, and a parttime model.
“I miss you daddy.”
“I will love you forever.”
His cousin called me. We talked. He told me how amazing Keith was in his short life. How there has been no charges.
I expressed my condolences, and thanked him for the confirmation — the confirmation I didn’t know I needed 18 years ago.

Gamma Loves You

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Me and Quinn on a walk this morning…He is wearing his black “vampire” cape I bought him, a “Unity” shirt, carrying a rose, with Spider Man light up shoes. His curly hair is blowing, making the bed head hair look on purpose.
He is chatting away about the Halloween decorations we see.
Me: “I love you.”
Quinn: “I know.”
We walk in silence until we see a cactus.
Quinn: “Don’t touch it.”
(I can never leave.)

Flying First Class

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When I got on the plane to my seat, the guy in the window seat was holding a beautiful black Rawlings baseball glove, cradling like it was a baby.
I sat down. Buckled up.
Me: “You expecting a fly ball to come through here?”
Turns out he was on his way to Peoria (AZ) for minor league training.
Him: “I just like to make sure I know where it is.”
Me: “What position do you play? No, let me guess. Give me a hint.”
Him: “I don’t bat.”
Me: “A pitcher.”
Him: “Yeah, I suck at hitting.”
But the right hander throws 90 miles an hour, graduated from Villanova and selected by the Seattle Mariners. His girlfriend is studying fashion in Paris at Parsons.
Best of luck Jimmy!
See what happens when you sit next to a journalist— I am all up in your KoolAid. Now, I hope my seat mate flying back is interesting.