Some Days Moving Forward Means Staying Still

In a previous post, I wrote about visiting my mother in the skilled nursing facility—spending time with her, seeing what her days are like there, and trying to navigate everything that comes with figuring out what happens next.

Today, I was supposed to visit again.

My body had other plans.

Today my body said, “I'm not getting out of bed.”

And I listened.

I didn't finally get out of bed until about 5:30 p.m. Eastern Time.

I was awake earlier in the day, and once I realized I wasn't going to make it, I messaged the family group text. I let everyone know I wouldn't be there and asked if the brother who was in the area could let Mom know.

They were there hanging out with her, so she wasn't alone.

Still, I felt like I was missing something.

I didn't get to hear from Donna Woods today—or try to keep up with Donna Woods. That's become part of these visits, too. There are the people I originally go there to see, and then there are the people I meet along the way who somehow become part of the story.

And that little community around Mom may be changing this week.

Her current roommate, Jenny, might be leaving tomorrow. If she does, Mom may be getting a new roommate.

Donna Woods may be leaving on Tuesday.

It's strange how quickly these temporary communities form. People enter a skilled nursing facility because something happened in their lives. They become roommates. They sit in the same hallways. They eat meals together. Families begin recognizing one another. Personalities emerge. Stories get shared.

Then someone gets better.

Someone moves.

Someone goes home.

Someone new arrives.

And the little world rearranges itself again.

Maybe that's part of what I've been watching while visiting Mom: life continuing to move even when, from the outside, it can look like everyone is standing still.

Today, I was the one standing still.

I always feel some guilt when I don't make it to see Mom. I want to show up. I want to be involved. I want to keep things moving forward.

But sometimes my body gets a vote, too.

Today it apparently had veto power.

So I stayed in bed.

Tomorrow begins another week, and it's time to push ahead again.

On Tuesday, I'm touring an assisted living facility as we continue exploring what the next chapter might look like for Mom.

The timing feels especially interesting now.

Jenny may be leaving.

Donna Woods may be leaving.

Mom may have a new roommate.

And I'm going to walk through a completely different place and try to imagine whether it could eventually become Mom's next home.

I’m not sure this facility is the right one. I don't know what Tuesday will bring. There are still questions to ask, things to see, decisions to make, and probably a few surprises nobody has thought about yet.

But that's where things are today.

Yesterday's plans change.

Roommates come and go.

People recover and move on.

Some days I visit Mom.

Some days my body tells me I'm staying in bed until 5:30 p.m.

And then another week begins.

So I get up, push ahead, and take the next step.

Day 104: The Emails Made It. Now We Wait.

Day 104.

Yesterday, I expanded the audience for my ongoing request for Nextdoor’s detailed Insights reports.

Today, I have a little more clarity about what actually made it through.

Every Board email I attempted was returned as undeliverable.

I couldn’t reach the Nextdoor Board through those addresses. I used what seemed like a reasonable first-name@nextdoor.com format. It didn't work.

The Executive Team was different.

None of those emails bounced back.

That doesn't prove anyone read my email. It doesn't prove it reached a particular executive's inbox instead of getting filtered somewhere along the way.

But unlike my attempted Board emails, I received no delivery-failure messages.

So now?

I wait.

Will Anyone Answer?

My guess?

No.

But that's only a prediction based on my experience over the previous 103 days—not a fact. I'd actually be delighted to be wrong.

The request remains remarkably simple.

Nextdoor previously published Insights posts telling readers that additional findings and detailed data were available if they contacted the company.

I've been asking for that material.

Communications eventually responded, but the materials I received weren't the complete, detailed set I requested.

Yesterday, I put the question in front of a broader group of Nextdoor executives:

Can you provide the detailed reports/data—or tell me they aren't available?

That's it.

No 50-page shareholder proposal.

No demand for a seat in the boardroom.

No decoder ring required.

Send it, say no, explain the restrictions, or tell me who owns the request.

Any of those answers works.

Day 104 Is Now About the Response

The email appears to have reached the Executive Team addresses.

My attempted Board emails didn't.

I've documented both.

Now there's nothing more to add until Nextdoor decides what it wants to do with the question.

Maybe someone responds tomorrow.

Maybe someone responds next week.

Maybe nobody responds at all.

If they answer, I'll publish that too.

For now, the ball is in Nextdoor's court.

Day 104.

The email was sent.

The Executive Team addresses didn't bounce.

Now we find out whether delivery leads to communication.

👉 Follow the continuing case study at NielFlamm.com/blog

A Mystery Friend Request on The Facebook: Friend Her or Hit Delete?

A few days ago, I received a friend request on The Facebook.

Yes, I’m calling it The Facebook.

The request came from Amy Ford.

My immediate reaction was pretty simple:

Who is Amy Ford?

I have absolutely no clue.

Then the second thought kicked in:

Who would randomly want to be friends with me?

And that's when a little insecurity started creeping in. I'm old. My kidneys are failing. I have one fully intact leg. My eyes aren't exactly operating at 4K resolution. I'm a little chubby.

Yet here comes this attractive stranger wanting to be my friend on The Facebook.

Okay.

What could go wrong?

One Mutual Friend

Before immediately hitting delete, I looked at the profile.

We have one mutual friend.

One.

That's enough to make me curious, but certainly not enough to make me think, Oh, of course! Amy!

Her profile says she's in New York and references Korea, along with the University of Leeds. Her bio says:

“Hi everyone! I’m a somewhat well-known beauty from Korea, LOL.”

That's an interesting introduction.

And yes, the name Amy Ford initially caught my attention, along with the Korean references. Of course, someone from Korea can have an English or Western name, so the name by itself proves absolutely nothing.

But combined with everything else?

My curiosity started winning.

So I Started Digging

I looked through her public posts.

There are posts about New York.

Central Park.

Ballet.

A Cybertruck driving through Manhattan.

Porto Rico Importing Co. in Greenwich Village.

New York Fashion Week.

Plenty of photographs, locations, and little slices of New York life.

At first glance, it looks like someone documenting life in the city.

But then I started looking at the profile as a whole.

The account shows 16 followers and 33 following.

We share only that one mutual connection.

There are highly polished profile and cover images featuring the same woman, including a collage labeled “NEW YORK,” “BEAUTIFUL LIFE,” “SOYEON,” and “SEOUL, KOREA.”

Then there's the University of Leeds reference.

Maybe every bit of it is legitimate.

Maybe Amy is exactly who the profile says she is.

Or maybe this will become another chapter in my growing collection of strange things people send me online.

I don't know.

And that's precisely why I haven't hit Confirm.

I've Seen This Movie Before

After documenting recruiter scams, suspicious social media accounts, fake car sellers, PayPal scams, Geek Squad scams, mystery invoices, and the other nonsense that seems to find its way to me, I've learned something:

Curiosity is powerful.

It's also exactly what questionable accounts can rely on.

The temptation is obvious.

Accept the request.

Don't volunteer any personal information.

Don't click anything.

Don't send money.

And see what happens.

Will “Amy” send a perfectly normal message?

Will she never contact me at all?

Will we suddenly move from Hello to cryptocurrency investing in 14 minutes?

Will an uncle show up with an incredible investment opportunity?

Will WhatsApp or Telegram show up?

Maybe none of that happens.

That's what makes this interesting.

So I'm Putting It to You

I'm genuinely undecided.

There isn't enough here for me to declare that the person behind this account is a scammer. A profile that looks unusual to me isn't proof of anything, and neither is someone's name, appearance, nationality, school, number of friends, or posting style.

But there are enough things that don't immediately add up for me that I'm hesitant to click Confirm.

So, readers, I'm handing you the mouse.

What should I do?

👍 Accept the friend request and see what happens?

🗑️ Delete it and move along?

And more importantly: What do you look for when a stranger sends you a friend request on The Facebook?

I have a feeling the comments on this one could be more entertaining than the friend request.

Day 103: I Expanded the Email List. The Board Emails Didn’t Cooperate.

Day 103.

Today, I sent another email to Nextdoor.

After 103 days, I decided to expand the audience.

I put the Nextdoor Executive Team in the “To” field, along with the people who have already been part of this conversation.

I also attempted to include members of the Nextdoor Board of Directors in the CC field.

There was just one problem.

Apparently, my attempt at figuring out the board members' Nextdoor email addresses wasn't particularly successful. 😂

The Board Emails Bounced

I tried the fairly obvious formula: first name@nextdoor.com.

No such luck.

I received failed-delivery notices for the addresses I attempted for:

Michael Kiernan, Jason Pressman, Tony Castellanos, Niraj Shah, Chris Varelas, Elisa Steele, David Sze, and Bill Gurley.

I don’t have confirmation that the board members received today's email.

They apparently didn't.

I’ll research whether there are publicly available professional contact addresses through the companies or organizations they represent.

Interestingly, I haven't received bounce-back notices for the Executive Team addresses included in the “To” field so far. That doesn't prove anyone personally read the email, but at least I haven't received a delivery-failure notification.

What Did I Ask This Time?

The email itself is published in full on this blog, but the short version is remarkably simple.

I acknowledged that Nextdoor Communications did respond to me. I want to be fair and accurate.

The problem is that what I received wasn't the complete report or detailed data described in the original Nextdoor Insights posts.

So I asked again.

Send the complete reports.

Please let me know if they aren't available for distribution.

Tell me what restrictions or requirements apply.

Could you tell me who at Nextdoor is responsible for providing them?

Any of those answers creates closure.

That's really it.

This Shouldn't Require 103 Days

That's what continues to fascinate me about this entire experience.

The request hasn't become more complicated.

The distribution list has.

This started as a request for research referenced as available and has now moved through Communications, members of the Executive Team, and—once I have the working contact information—potentially the Board.

I'm not trying to make it look like people received something when they didn't.

That's why I'm publishing the bounce-backs too.

Transparency works both ways.

If Nextdoor responds, I'll say it responded.

If the response doesn't contain what I requested, I'll say that too.

If my emails to the Board don't work, I'll tell you that.

And if tomorrow Nextdoor sends me the complete reports—or says, “Niel, we're not giving them to you”—I'll publish that, too.

At least we'd finally have an answer.

For now:

Day 103.

The Executive Team email appears to have gone through.

My first attempt at reaching the Board?

Not so much. 😂

The full email I sent is included below,

👉 NielFlamm.com/blog

Sunshine, Pudding, and Why I Choose an Aisle Seat

Mom and I spent some time outside the facility today. Mid-70s, sunshine, clear skies, and a nice breeze.

It was the kind of weather I wish I could order ahead of time.

We stayed out until Mom had enough and wanted to go back inside. I gathered my things and rolled her in. She needs a lift to get into bed, so we spent a little time in the hallway while waiting.

I noticed lunch on her table and asked whether she wanted to try it.

It looked like a chicken ranch wrap. Visually, it wasn’t making a strong case for itself.

Mom tried it and said it was terrible.

Her words. I had only done a preliminary visual inspection.

The vanilla pudding, however, disappeared in about ten seconds. The small cup of cut-up cucumber also went, along with her sweet tea.

So there were some successes on the tray. The wrap may want to request a transfer.

I’ve been asking assisted living facilities about food tastings, and moments like this explain why. Mom says she doesn’t eat much, but apparently vanilla pudding doesn’t need to be told twice.

Meanwhile, there was activity on the roommate side of the room.

Mom has the bed closest to the door. Her roommate had gone out to lunch with a friend. Then she came back in.

Then she went back out.

Then she came back in.

Then she went back out.

I was starting to feel as though we were sitting beside the entrance to a department store.

And I thought to myself: Self, this is exactly why you choose an aisle seat.

When I fly, I know I’ll probably need to get up at least once to use the bathroom. I don’t want to bother the person in the aisle, and heaven forbid I have to involve the person in the middle seat. That person has already suffered enough.

So I book the aisle. I plan for my own traffic.

Watching people come and go, I briefly wondered whether airplane seating etiquette could apply to shared rooms. Frequent departures? Let’s get you closer to the exit.

Of course, nobody was actually climbing over us. She was going about her day in her own room, and she had every right to do so.

My brain had simply decided to turn a perfectly ordinary afternoon into a seating-assignment consultation. Apparently, I’m available to reorganize a floor plan nobody asked me to review.

I remember shared rooms from my own time in skilled nursing. Two people’s schedules, visitors, meals, and routines happen in one space. Sometimes one person is ready to settle down while the other still has places to go.

Today, Mom was ready to settle down.

We’d had some sunshine, a little fresh air, and a lunch with a very clear winner.

I still want the aisle seat.

Mom can have the pudding.