TMI

It's funny how, even when you are grown, you are often no better at learning from other people's experiences than you were as a kid. Or maybe it's just me. I've always been a very open person. If you want to know something about me or how I feel about a subject, just ask. My friends all know this.

Knowing this, my friends (and husband and parents and even now strangers) have all advised me to basically STFU. I give out too much, they say. One day it will get me in trouble, they say. And even though I have worked in the news business for most of my adult life, and I have reported on various acts of violence, rapes, kidnapping and murders, my response to the fears of my friends has always been, "Why do you have to be so negative? Most people are good." First, they disagree with me that most people are good, and second they say it doesn't matter anyway. It isn't most people you need to worry about. It's just The One. And my answer back is always, "Yes, whatever."

So a week or so ago, I posted a clever little Photoshop® image I created on the Browns forum. The image was hosted from an account I had created. The account name included my last name, and one of the pictures was labeled with my first name. The next day, one of the regular posters there who also reads here contacted me. The email was called "Look what I know" and it contained my full name, my home address, my home phone number and my work address. He also reminded me that, sometime previously, I had made it known where I go walking at night alone. He said he would have included turn-by-turn directions to my house, but thought that might be overkill. I don't remember my exact response, but it was something like, "Holy shit!" He said I was not the first woman to whom he'd given such a lesson, and then said I might want to consider a firearm. To my great happiness he said he also thinks that most people are good, but you still have to be careful about The One. They don't generally advertise themselves.

So anyhow, thanks for the lesson B.D. I don't have a firearm yet, but when I go walking with my military grade teargas spray in one pocket and my big knife in the other, I think fondly of you.