Wonders of the wide electronic world and the secret of ‘Lady M’

Well, I finally did it. After 15-plus years, I switched email accounts. It wasn’t easy to let go of the name friends have learned to know me by. But it had to be done. The reason? Lots and lots of spamers also learned my name.
The problem started a few months ago when a friend let me know that his email account had been hacked. Why? Who knows. But ever since then, I have been receiving between 75 and 100 junk emails every day! I use MSN’s filter and block every junk address that finds me. By now, they number in the thousands. But no luck. The same ones, and lots of new ones, show up continuously.
I must admit, I have been notified of my inheritance from a long lost relative in Libya. I have been assured that I could earn a PhD in only months. My thinning hair will become full in a week. And parts of my body I wasn’t even sure I still had could grow … Well, perhaps I should stop there. But I think you get the idea.
So, “the hanker” will be no more in a couple of weeks. I’m hoping all of those wonderful folks who want to make me rich, smart and handsome won’t find me too quickly.
Then there is the issue of tweeting, having a Facebook page, and writing blogs. I don’t do any of those things.
In the case of Facebook, I did join and now a whole bunch of people I’ve never met want to be my friends. And several of my children have friends I really don’t want to know. Often, the conversations all these “friends” have among themselves ought to stay there. I don’t want to know the intimate details of their love lives. Really.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the internet. I can buy all kinds of stuff I don’t need. And I can get a constant supply of jokes from my close friends that keep me laughing all day. And I can look up information on anything I want.
Just yesterday, I needed to know the details of the Morgan Hill ordinance regarding placing trash containers at the curb. The Times Red Phone covered it a while back, but I wanted to read again exactly how the ordinance reads.
The first thing I saw on my quest was a really well done website about Morgan Hill. Even the masthead includes a picture of one of my favorite Morgan Hill art objects: The incredible sculpture of the Hiram Morgan Hill family “Waiting for the Train.”
This beautiful object d’art was created by Morgan Hill’s very own sculptress Marlene Amerian. It’s so beautifully positioned in front of the train station. Every time I pass it, I marvel at the extraordinary talent of this nice lady.
But, I digress. Back to the issue of trash containers.
In summary, Section 13.28.050 says don’t put your trash cans out earlier than 6 a.m. on the day before trash is to be picked up and store them properly no later than 6 a.m. on the day following pick up. Now that’s not so hard to remember, is it?
We live in a beautiful city and one thing that makes it less than beautiful is a bunch of trash containers decorating our streets.
So, there’s pet peeve number one. Now that I have a soapbox, you might hear more peeves in the future.
And, if you tell me about your pet peeve, someday you just might read about it in “Much Ado About Nothing.” No promises. After all, it’s my column. So if I don’t agree with you, once again you will be able to claim that life just isn’t fair.
In an earlier column, I promised I would explain how “Lady M” got her name.
My wife and I were on a cruise a few years ago. We entered the dining room preparing to have dinner at the captain’s table when, for reasons unbeknownst to either of us, the Maitre’d addressed her as “Lady Miller.” (As I remember, he referred to me as “hey you.”) Well, names stick.
 I call her “Lady M” and she calls me “hey you.” She always answers. I do when I remember it’s me she’s calling.
                
Henry “Hank” Miller’s column is published each Friday in the Times. A retired rocket scientist, he has an interest in classic automobiles, good  conversation, martinis and community affairs. Reach him at

ha******@gm***.com