I used to joke that I had a million friends. Being a boomer, whenever I had an original thought it quicky became apparent that at least a million boomer peers had it too. The upside to sharing the planet with those pesky interlopers was the implied comraderie in our numbers. But what our numbers didn't support was genuine one on one –much less one on one million– communication. That avenue was controlled by media, publishing and marketing powers who limited what we bought, watched, read and thought with accuracy only profits would allow. So I abandoned the million friends idea and settled for a few close ones.
Look at us now– blogging. Idea by idea, we share opinions, hints and mentorships. Search an author, Anne Lamott or Dan Zadra, say. Or an artist – Damien Rice or Rod Cook– and find a million friends who share that particular interest and offer a whole lot more. Age, race and gender barriers succumb to open exchange with these newfound millions. Bakerina introduced me to Duane Keiser who led me to sell my daily posting photographs for a cause. Cary Tennis advised, "make a major choice to live in a lively, provocative city, one that will teach you things you can't learn in the suburbs, one that will bring out parts of your personality that you want to bring out, one that will nurture you in ways you want to be nurtured and discourage you in ways you want to be discouraged." Seth Godin sends me all over the internet for good ideas without a consulting fee. The list goes on and, blissfully, on. Thank you all. I now have a million friends, and they share. This changes everything.
Nice to meet you. Have a donut.
Good habits are as easy to form as bad ones. – Tim McCarver
