This is the second post in a three-part series, all tightly tethered to that creepy feeling. When put together, they will convey my stance about a word that means a lot to me in a world of online, open communication: identity.See that kid over there? He's about to chuck a snowball at a passing car. His ability to calculate trajectory, distance, speed, and a myriad of other criteria make his upcoming toss a spot-on bulls-eye.
See that driver over there? The one who just had his windshield powdered by a snowball? He's applying the brakes. He's shifting the car in reverse. He's looking for the source.
But the kid is long gone. He's darted through the backyard and is already in the woods waiting out the search.
That kid is gonna grow up and he's gonna write a blog. That driver is gonna read that blog.
That blogger won't use his name on his blog. He will remain mildly anonymous. He will remember his snowball hurling days and think of anonymity and preservation.
That reader will gosh-darn read that blog with regularity. He will reflect on the thoughtfulness of the posts. He will comment assiduously. But he will soon reach a point where that blogger's voice is nowhere near as profound as the person who stands behind it.
I teach my student's to take pride in themselves. I urge them to stand up for what they believe in. And I sure as hell would never tell them to go stand behind a bush, shout an invective, and then run for the hills.
Don't hide in the woods. Don't run for protection. Stand up, take credit, believe in what you espouse.
Your message is strong, but you are stronger.
Sign your name. Step up. Be heard.
That driver over there? The one getting back in to his car? He's the U-12 State Select Baseball Coach. He's always looking for talent.