I started working on this piece the other day because someone sent
me a quote, and I thought that I would finally take the time to
find a photo from the archives that I thought would go with it.
Then this morning while I took a break from working on my web site
I decided to read a while and then post an image here. All of a
sudden it hit me, that today was December 8th, the beignning of
the 5th year of writing on the web.
Four years of reading and writing, of sorrow and anger, of drama
and quiet reflection.
Chronicled here are the hopes and dreams, the lives and loves of
not only people from our corner of the world, but from around the
Many have come and gone, and even though they are gone, their words,
torn from the living flesh of their souls remain locked in my memory.
Another writer wrote an entry yesterday that started with "There
was a time..."and that entry was actually the one that sent
me to thinking about my web writing, and my history on another writing
site, and then I noticed the date. I keep another "journal"
on an interactive journaling site that allows for quite a bit of
interaction between writers. Like any small community, it has its
fill of drama, and issues, and also, good writing.
For me there was also a time... when I was a little too caught
up into various "issues" of that place, especially some
of the drama that went on there, before there was such a thing as
There was a time when I became too involved in the drama, drama
that seemed so important at the time, and now has faded from memory.
And yes, there have been times when the collective "community"
has been presented with fake diaries, from the boy with leukemia,
the girl who died in the World Trade Towers, the grieving Italian
Widow to the North Carolina fake in lace undies.
You might ask, "doesn't it bother you?"
No, is my answer, I'm going to keep on reading. You see, I'm an
inveterate voyeur into the lives of those who care to share here.
I also think that after all this time, for the most part, I can
discern what is real and what is not. And for me, its the real that
At this very time, as we wait to hear the results of all of my
mother's tests last week, the concern and prayers and well wishes
expressed by you who have noted are real and heartfelt.
There have been numerous times when I have come here to write,
but in reading first, I find my voice silenced and my spirit humbled
by the reality of the suffering that some have been called to endure.
This place is about life, sometimes thankless, sometimes painful,
but also full of joy and compassion and light.
And now, looking forward to year five, I have re-read my first
entry and note the following:
I still hope to encourage, to cause reflection, and to share the
I know that there are real people out there listening.
And I know that there are real people out there who care.
Rather than write and write and trip over my own words I'd like
to close with the one word that keeps coming to mind as I think
of this site and what I have gained from it over these past four
I am grateful that I have had the chance to read, I am grateful
that I have had the chance to write.
But most of all, I am grateful that the people here have offered
to share their lives, their hopes and dreams, their terrors and
This place has been a very powerful force in my life at times over
the last 4 years. I have read and taken actions at times I might
not otherwise have taken. Other times I read your words and remember
and carry them with me hour after hour, day after day.
I am grateful for the hand of friendship that has been extended
from around this land, and from around the globe.
I am grateful for you, and hope to be able to keep on reading and
writing and sharing in your lives.