Not that I have any choice.
In the last month, twice over I’ve sat in my little house in my own corner of Sullivan County and realized the farther you stretch your wings on the Internet, the closer to home you end up.
Take lesson one, a new “friendship” struck up on Facebook with a woman I’ll call C. C lives in New York City, and happened to move into an online job that I vacated last spring. I’ve read, and laughed at, her work hundreds of times in the past year, but I didn’t really “know C.” I still wouldn’t, if it weren’t for an old friend from Callicooon, who I really “know” in life as much in the virtual realm. We’ll call her J.
J, as we’re wont to do on Facebook, passed a comment about C coming to visit her at her home in Boston.
Say what? I know her! I mean, I don’t know her, but you know . . . I sort of know her, the way you know anyone on the Internet? Sitting in my house in Callicoon Center, I watched two lives collide. And now J sits in Boston watching me commenting on C’s Facebook, shaking her head about the surreality of seeing these two distinct sectors of her life communicating.
Of course, if that was all that had happened, I’d chalk it up to happenstance. Eh, one person knows another person. No big, you dig?
But I work on the Internet, informational resource of the world and smallest planet known to man.
How else do you explain the interview I did two weeks ago with a woman I didn’t know from Adam, a woman who lives on Long Island, a woman who was chatting with my simply because of a new book she’d penned with her wife? Oh, and did I mention she went to high school with my friend and around-the-corner here in Callicoon Center neighbor V?
Kind of makes me feel better about all the local news I’m missing while I’m hiding out on my computer . . .