I post a lot of photos and stories.

I’m a creative. I have to express myself. 

 It’s how I interpret the world.  It’s what keeps me moving and motivated. 

Sometimes, I think, no I need to not share “my stuff.”

It’s really a challenge. Believe it or not my natural tendency is to live in the shadows. You know, not risk it. 

A football stadium, a museum, a selfie with friend I bump into while I’m out along the way.

Whatever it is – it’s a reminder. A reflection that no matter where you travel or who you are going with, you never go alone.

Some 40 states, three countries, thousands of games, 10 thousand stories and hopefully unlimited lessons of good people who cared to let me be in their lives.

I mean, who can count the number of people who make the skin of your onion.

The other night, I struck me how interconnected we are. I was covering a high school basketball game.

One of my fifth grade teachers was working the scorers table.

I smiled and oddly said, “Do you remember me?”

Pfff. How could I not. Harlan Elementary was as much a family as my neighbors were. Jim was kind of like family too. His wife knew my sisters. He worked with my mom. His dad was a local celebrity – I thought.

Then again.

You know, everyone is famous in a small town.

It’s kinda like the mob, you can’t get out of the community, even if you leave.

We talked. Talked about my family, farming.

Then he said something that stunned me. 

“I follow you on Facebook.” He talked about the places I went and how I had stories to tell.

I replied, “I worry I share  too much.”

He made a comment about, it’s not about you, It’s about who sees it. It’s a break from the bitter social debate that threatens to tear us apart. It’s something more than the same ole, same ole.

He added, we get to go with you. 

Admittedly, I got misty eyed. I do that a lot.

“I’m just this farm kid from Harlan and Scipio Township that’s not supposed to do these things.”

It’s not something I can just pitch aside.

He smiled, “You keep doing it. (Those posts) mean a lot.”

Blame him – not me if it gets to be too much.