Ian McRae is our young, strong-willed, and idealistic sheep shearer. Shears are an exotic breed, gypsies in a way, often loners. They travel long distances, make little money, wrestle in the dark and cold and heat with rebellious sheep, eat on the run, and wreck their backs and legs.
Ian is in his early 20’s, and he has an Irish vibe going – the sideburns, the intense poets, his wish to write poetry. He began shearing with his grandfather some years ago and has been doing it for much of his life.
He radiates and glorifies the laborer’s work, those who live on their strength and hard work. He seems to love shearing and is good at it but is not sure that is what he wants to do.
The last time we saw him, he was beaming at the thought of shearing on his own; he said it was what he would do for at least the next ten years.
He is not sure about anything right now, as is the right and province of the young. In a way, that is what being young is all about.
Ian rejects any form of charity or overt assistance, and believes in a life of hard, physical work – he reminds me of those Soviet murals and posters glorifying the socialist worker. He has somewhat romantically suffered for it, going hungry at times, sleeping in a car sometimes, writing poetry in secret, working in a slate factory in battered Granville, N.Y. hauling heavy pieces of slate all day.
We might see him next year, or we might not. After all, he is young and single.
I would miss him if he were gone. I am very fond of Ian, as is Maria. He is incredibly bright, articulate, and full of himself, as idealistic young people (wince) often are.
I know I relate to him because I was him in many ways, a galaxy away. Of course, he is not me, but there are plenty of echoes.
When Ian came to shear our sheep a week ago, he alarmed both of us.
He was exhausted and disheveled, his equipment was rusty, and he was so hungry I rushed out to buy him coffee (black, of course), two hamburgers, and a banana.
He devoured the burgers and saved the banana for breakfast. He just looked a wreck.
Ian had to leave five of our sheep unshorn because his equipment failed, it had gotten too dark for him to see, and he was exhausted after a day hauling slate. He said he would be back, and he was true to his word.
Ian reminds me of the stories of writers like Jack Kerouac and Jack London and the poets of the rebellious and independent Irish tradition like Yeats and Pearse. Ian has a solid size chip on his shoulder and a great big heart to go with it, a tough act to balance.
He has an authentic and radiant smile and is quick to flash it.
Like so many young people, he also has no idea what it is to grow up and find oneself in a deep hole without knowing it.
When I told him hauling slate in a mill might not make someone like him happy for too long, he looked at me as if I had gone mad.
“Why not?” he asked me, “I love working hard.” But, I said, you also love writing poetry and sitting up all night reading. You might even want a family.
The very idea seemed to startle him.
Ian seemed like a lost boy to me, a feeling I remember all too well, even after all of these years.
A couple of nights after the first shearing, I reached out to him to say I wanted to start a conversation about his life, his future, and the nature and cost of the creativity I believe he yearns for but also feels is beyond him and his working-class background.
I could tell he expected me to scold him somehow, but he said he did want to have the conversation.
He is wary of snooty elites trying to tell him what to do. I know that feeling, too, even as I slowly but inexorably have become one of them. Life is a wheel; it never stops turning.
I told Ian that I believed in him and wanted to help; I mentioned a gofundme project to start if he needed money to update his equipment, which I could see was worn and inefficient. I doubted he would go for that.
I wondered how you help people who don’t think or know they need help and may not want it. The answer is you don’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try. I love the passion and hope of the young, I didn’t want to dampen it.
I said I wasn’t trying to tell him what to do; I just wanted him to understand that he is gifted and enterprising enough to do whatever he wants, including being a writer or a poet or a shearer or something I had never thought of.
As many of you know, getting and giving unwanted advice is a toxic issue for me, and I very rarely do it or take it. Intelligent people don’t need it, and fools won’t take it.
Ian said he wanted to think about what I had told him.
He was shocked by the conversation; he said no one had ever told him those things; he wanted to think about it. I said there was no reason he needed to speak to me further; I just wanted to express my mind. He clearly did want to talk about it.
The experience was grinding in a way. Ian is a strong-willed guarded young man; it was like chipping away at a glacier with an ice pick. Talking to the young can be like that. But I’m a strong-willed old man, and it also felt like we were equals facing one another.
I felt like the stereotypical old fart, lecturing the young on getting their shit together, dispensing wisdom nobody wanted to hear. I thought of the obnoxious old man in the Graduate asking Benjamin what he would do with his life.
This isn’t China; few people listen to older adults. The elderly are not revered or perceived as knowing much of anything, by and large. The culture mostly ignores them. An awful lot of wisdom and experience are thrown away; I’ve learned this just from my volunteering at the Mansion assisted care facility.
Why would Ian listen to me? He probably wouldn’t, but one moral obligation of older men is to try and mentor younger ones and pass on what they believe they have learned.
I think I know creatives when I see one, and one thing that does so many of them in is that they get no encouragement from people, many of whom tell them to get a day job or they will starve to death. That’s what people told me, and that’s what they said to Maria. If we had taken that advice, we wouldn’t have lasted a month as a writer or as an artist.
I may yet starve to death, but I will die happily and with a sense of fulfillment, which is precious to me.
Last night, Ian returned to finish the shearing he started, and after he was done, we both stayed out in the barn to talk. I don’t know how long it was, half an hour perhaps, maybe an hour. I could see his anxiety; he said he was not used to having conversations like this.
I could sense his insecurity about his gifts and talents.
Ian was stunned by our conversation, especially the part where I said he could be anything he wished. “If you read my poetry, you would laugh at that,” he said.
And I stopped him there and told him never to speak poorly of his work; if he didn’t believe in it, nobody else would. And it might be listening I saw that this hit home. His eyes widened, and he took that in. He wanted to believe that was possible.
He told me several things. no was that he would never accept charity or money from strangers; he would never do a gofundme page.
He was healthy, he said and didn’t wish to be accountable or obligated to anyone. His is the clarion call of the young, and I respect it. n the other hand, I said, there are all kinds of help apart from money.
We talked about fellowships, scholarships, and schools with endowments. Sometimes, I said one just needs help, and, I added, only the strong get help, the weak just flounder. t is no weakness to reach out to people. any of them, as I have learned, are eager to help.
I told him I truly respected his feelings; I wasn’t interested in fundraising for him; there were many needier people. I just wanted to plant a seed in his mind.
What was that seed, he asked?
Soon, I said, it would be time for him to make some decisions and choices about what he wanted to do with his life and whether to focus on what he loved and begin to work to make it happen.
If what he wanted was hauling slate, that was his choice and his business. But I hoped it was an authentic and considered choice, not just a romantic vision with little thought or reality.
I said I decided to be a writer when I was eight, and Maria chose to be an artist not too long after that and that doing what you love is sacred to me.
We are both still learning how to do what we do well; it’s not instant or straightforward. I didn’t want to list the rejections, failures, and discouragement in my writing life. That doesn’t matter. Nothing was going to stop, and I knew I would figure out a way to survive and find my bliss.
The people I know who are happy and fulfilled in their lives – including me – are doing what they love, I said. Working only for money can be a form of slavery if it is not what your heart and soul want to do.
Trust me, I said, if you are still hauling slate around as you approach 30, you might have real regrets about your life, and the longer you wait, the harder it may be to change.
Life can be a glorious opportunity to live, and life can be a trap. To some extent, that is beyond our control. To some extent, it is a choice.
There is nothing wrong with people who work hard or with their hands if it is really what they want to do or circumstances prevent them from doing something else.
I could see he didn’t entirely accept that and there is no reason why he should. It’s his life, he must experience it.
Nor did I expect him to buy everything I was saying. I was trying to plant some ideas; the rest would be up to him.
We danced back and forth for a while. He listened willingly to part of the story of my life, and I listened to the story of his. I felt we both respected one another; we were both listening.
I talked to him again about fellowships and programs and scholarships and part-time employers like Amazon, which paid $15 an hour plus bonuses and loved to hire young people who work part-time and need financial help with college. If he wished, he could take a month and study something he really wanted to know more about.
They are desperate for help right now, they pay college tuition for thousands of their workers and bonuses for signing up. Amazon, I said, doesn’t want lifers, they want young people who will stay and work hard for a while, and there are genuine benefits.
These may not be lifetime career jobs, but they help many people work and eat while searching for their authentic vocations. Sometimes, people have to have more than one job to find a way to do what they love.
Ian has spent all of his life in rural Vermont and was unaware of these options. I had the sense he just never thought about it. To many, there is a glamour about suffering, especially when it is a choice.
I said that life is all about choices, and life today is a lot more complex for independent thinkers and outsiders – Ian knows he is an outlier – than it was for me when I walked into the New York Times lobby years ago and was hired a half-hour later to start my journalism and writing career.
I had one year of college behind me before dropping out.
Today, I would never get past the security guard.
I said he was under no obligation to listen to me or do anything I suggested.
He needed to find his way and follow his own heart. Feel free to find a mentor you might feel easier with; I know you are not entirely at ease with me; we haven’t known one another for long, and I am a strange creature to you, I can see it in your eyes.
Ian and I talked about books. He thanked me profusely for sending him a half dozen novels about the Vietnam war and growing up in America. He has read all of them and would be grateful for any more I wanted to send. I can tell he has a hungry mind.
He said he mostly reads poetry, can’t afford new hardcover fiction, and doesn’t read e-books.
I repeated that I was planting a seed, a thought.
And what seed was that? He asked once more.
“That you are unique and gifted, and you can do anything you want in this world if you put your mind and heart into it. ut you can’t just wave a magic wand and declare yourself a poet or writer (he is interested in writing); it takes thought, planning, and work. nd a lot of luck.
You are great at working, I said, but I’m not seeing the idea or the planning or focus. That’s the point.
We shook hands and hugged each other. I ordered several books to send to him, and we both agreed that this was the start, not the end, of our conversation with one another.
I told him I sensed the creativity in him quite strongly, and this is what motivated me to talk to him.
I was exhausted and drained by the emotion of the talk; it was not something I am easy doing. It kills me to see creative people abandon and regret their lives, should it come to that. Creativity is a calling for me. But I am not God and have no wish to play God.
If Ian doesn’t ever speak to me again, I will fully respect that as his right and leave him alone.
That’s the boundary: I wanted to speak with him, I did.
After our talks, I believe in Ian even more, and I just wanted him to know that there is someone who thinks he can be the master of his destiny, in case no one else has told him.
I believe in seeds that, once planted, can grow and change lives. That happened to me, so I know it can happen And I know it is my sacred obligation to pass along the message to others when I have the chance.
I have no idea what Ian is now thinking about our talk or whether it will matter to him That is all up to him, not me. I feel good about the conversation.
Everyone needs to talk and to be heard. You heard Ian and you talked to him too. He will take what resonates with him and maybe tuck away some that he thinks doesn’t. Uncomfortable conversations and the ones really worth having.
I very much agree Barbara, I was unsure about this but it turned out very well. Ian is very clear about what he does want and doesn’t want, I’m impressed by that. Nobody is going to tell him what to, but I hope I put a bug in his head and the bug is that he can do anything he wants. I needed to hear that, my sense is he needed to hear it as well. The rest is up to him.
One thing I might contribute is that a young person should be very wary of taking work that over time damages the body. To a strong young man it will sound silly, but you only have one body and even though much can be repaired these days, it is much better to avoid damage in the first place. Repetitive heavy work, for example.
Interesting point, I know he works very had, but I can’t speak to his health habits. I know he’s been tired.
What a gift… you both received from each other. He may, and I suspect probably, will understand the seed gift you gave him, freely, without a single string, rope or chain attached ?
I wish someone had cared to tell me these things when I was young.
I am blessed and happy today because of this story.
Sounds well done, Jon. And your view and concerns seem maybe well founded.
At the risk of…
Idea: Sometimes it moves us (all) forward to _ask_. If we can find an “ask” for a particular person or situation. Not necessarily falling off the log, that, but might be worth casting a thought. Maybe just to find out stuff he’s willing to relate about himself or his ideas?
An “ask” I try to remember in situations like this: “What/where/who” are the places you feel good to be and confident in their rightness? And are Ok with idea of being part of? Where can you honestly feel respect for something, somebody? Interest? Is it church? Pickup sports? In the midst of a herd of animals? Deep in the woods? Helping in a kitchen?
Asking creates a different dynamic, different than explaining or anything like that. And then _they_ can ask _you_ stuff, about your life and self. Of course, part of the difficulty is we need a genuine interest, ourselves.
Great to see your blog overflowing. Best.
Rufus
Thanks, Rufus, I never think I am always right, this was a difficult experience for me, but in retrospect, I’m happy we had this conversation. I probably won’t talk to Ian for months, if ever, but it would have haunted me if I didn’t try to talk to him.
Your whole attitude seems very elitist to me: you assume that, because you think creative work is the best and highest calling, it ought to be that way for everyone. Ian has told you several times that he enjoys his job hauling slate and loves the people he works with. Why not just believe him instead of insisting that your values must necessarily be everyone’s values?
Charles, I was much like Ian when I was his age. And I have talked to him a lot these past years.
My belief – my opinion – is that Ian wants to pursue a creative life in part, which may be wrong, and if so, he will do what he wants. I hope he continues his sheep shearing; he loves it.
I am not his boss, and I am not making him do anything, nor would he permit that.
He is an adult human being with many strengths and values.
I do not believe that people should not be questioned or challenged if friends think they might be making a mistake or considering something different. And please don’t patronize or demean him by suggesting he is too weak to make up his own mind. That is offensive.
As I wrote at least twice in the piece, there is nothing wrong with manual labor. Shearing, which he loves to do, and I hope he continues to do, IS manual labor.
I understand your concern, but you don’t know him, and you don’t know me, so I can’t put much weight on your very remote and somewhat knee-jerk reaction. You could be right, of course; if so, I will learn from my mistake and be clear soon enough. I’ll let everyone know.I won’t regret speaking my mind, and he thanked me for it several times.
Ian has many strong values that are different from mine, and he doesn’t need to be told by people who don’t know him that it’s all up to him. That’s what I admire about him.
I don’t know why you think I was saying that Ian is too weak to make up his own mind–I think he *has* made up with mind, and you just don’t want to listen to him because it doesn’t align with your values. Do you have any idea how many sheep shearers there are in the northeast? I do, because I own a flock of around 100 ewes. Many, many shearers. Few of them can earn any sort of living at all; it’s much harder work than hauling slate, with a lot more competition. More and more sheep operations are shutting down, and more sheep producers because of climate change are switching from wool sheep to hair sheep, which don’t need to be shorn. Unless he’s exceptionally fast at shearing (that is, unless he can do around 15 sheep an hour), he’s not going to make it. Those are just facts, whether or not they fit into your creative fancies.
Charles, reading this I see a lot of arrogance and presumption.
It’s not for you or me to tell Ian whether he can make it or not just because you think you’ve got it all figured out. It’s up to him, right or wrong, not you.
He and I had a talk about options, and that talk has absolutely nothing to do with you, your life, or your idea of what facts are. I have no idea what he will decide to do, and unlike you, I am not prepared to tell him that he will fail because some sheep farmer miles away thinks he knows everything.
I see a lot of “facts” about your life, and none about my conversation with Ian or the nature of the person I’m talking to. I have little respect for people who sit behind their computers many miles away and presume to know the most intimate details and lives of total strangers and tell them what they should do and can’t do.
It seems obnoxious and rude to me. You are what I most dislike about social media. If you wanted to know about my values, you could ask me, but you obviously know nothing about me either. That would take some work and thought.
I’m at a loss to understand why this diagnosis is your business. I would never tell Ian what to do as a shearer or a poet, and I have no creative “fancies” for him. I just want him to know he has real gifts.
You are not saying one thing about shearing that he and I don’t know, (or anyone with sheep doesn’t know) not one single “fact” about sheep and shearing that you are announcing is new to me or to him.
The difference between you and I is that I at least know him, and you are blowing smoke out of your ass and calling it wisdom and truth while hiding safely behind a computer. Let’s move on.
Good points all. It sounds like you know the market for this business and can give the young fellow some good insight and facts. Things COULD change, tho’ they probably wont’. The last thing the young man would want to do is end up having to exploit women and con readers of blogs with their phony superior intelligence, artistic, moral etc etc traits begging for donations.
Ian is so very, very lucky to have you in his life.
Thank you, that is very kind. I am lucky to know him (and you)
I don’t know many young people, that young, who are so …. “headstrong”, at least intense (so Irish). But they are have strong, sturdy personalities that get them through. Whatever he decides to do he’ll be good at.
His open smile will invite in a lot of people. I hope he has good supportive family and does not fall for the first love interest that sashays by but finds a good, loving, supportive mate. For that he needs loving mom, sisters and aunts to help him focus (ahem)
You’ve made me love him.
That’s good, I love him myself..thanks Cindy, he’s a very good person..
Jon…
This is a fantastic subject with some good advice. Ian was fortunate to have a mentoring session like this. Here are two complementary questions: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And, “how do you know when you’ve grown up?”
I discovered that I enjoyed writing. So, before starting high school, I tried to write a book. But after several handwritten pages, the story became too repetitive and I became bored. I then vowed a book would emerge when I had something to write about. That happened 58 years later.
In the meantime, technical writing became an essential input for my career products from magazine articles to peer-reviewed technical reports.
At annual job reviews, one question baffled me: “What is your long-term goal?” I believed that goals were set “bottom-up”. That is, stepping from where you were to the next logical step.
That approach could have succeeded years ago, when technology was changing in bounds and corresponding opportunities were being created. But also, managers seemed more invested in promoting their team’s advancement.
Back then, when serious new opportunities appeared, I knew I whether I was ready. But I never would have identified those opportunities as long-term goals.
Today technical fields are so specialized. Now, a software engineer or a cardiologist might have a stream of credentials following their title. They might have spent years burnishing those credentials, only to see them superseded in a flood of advancement.
Did you ever thing maybe you should mind your own business and stop trying to maipulate people into what you think they should be and stop hitting all your readers up for donations to support others? Over the last 10 years I have seen you asking for way to much playing thr sympathy violin. Leave him alone. Thanks to you Maria probably lost her sheep shearer. You need to stop butting in so much with people’s lives. Shame on you for trying to manipulate him to your liking. Leave him alone. Some people have pride. And don’t want help from others
Interesting thought Delilah, I never did think I should mind my own business, what would I have to write about?
We’ll see. Ian is returning in a few weeks to do some more trimming and thanked me for the conversation. He said it was helpful. So did Maria, she very much supported the conversation, and if she needs another shearer (doesn’t look like it) she’ll find one. She is far from helpless, as you suggest. Believe me, if she didn’t like it, I wouldn’t have done it.
But you could be right, time will tell. It’s important to be careful about meddling in other people’s lives. You are right about that. And you might consider your own advice to me. I don’t recall seeking your views on my work and life. Perhaps you might think about why it’s okay for you to do to me what you are protesting so passionately? And why do you think Maria can’t speak up for herself? That is really a hoot.
As for the rest of it, I will always try to help people in need and have no apologies to make for it. If you don’t like it, don’t donate and go read somebody else. Or better yet, start your own blog rather than tell me what to write on mine. When I wonder, will people give up on that?
As you probably have guessed, I will write what I want, not what you want me to write, for better or worse. For all your bluster and huffing, you seem to be supporting and reading my blog carefully and I thank you for that and hope you find a blog that is more comfortable for you.
I have to admit to some bewilderment this week, although I shouldn’t be surprised.
I know a bright young kid who seemed a bit lost to me, and I offered to talk to him about it. We had a good talk. He appreciated it. I felt good about it. Maria felt good about it. People I don’t know seem to think I should be badly about it.
I am used to the hatred and rage that social media has unleashed on us, but this one took me aback. Here is Delilah scolding me for meddling in other people’s lives (she includes my work with the elderly and the refugees, apparently) and suggesting Maria is too weak to protect herself from me, Charles ridiculing my “creative fantasies.” Yesterday, I was accused of plotting to make money off the elderly and the poor refugee families and doing the same by suggesting help for our shearer.
This was one of the simplest good deeds I have attempted, and the irony is that everyone involved is happy with the outcome and has no complaints about it. It seemed like such a simple thing and such a good one.
But look at the messages here from people who know nothing about it but who are unhappy about it.
Reality, truth, and civility no longer seem to be expected or demanded in our society, especially in our politics and the toxic world we call social media. Never mind minding your own business.
A few minutes ago, someone named Paula tried to post a message accusing me of bigotry (the term “gypsy” has been canceled, and then clueless for saying some people turned to Amazon for part-time work when they needed it. I’ve had enough, finally, and deleted her. I’m not interested in a week-long tussle about Amazon.
In our world, everything is controversial, and no matter what you do, someone is waiting to hate you for it. Truth and reality has nothing to do with it.
I want to say that I will not give up on attempting good as I see it and believe in it, no matter how nasty, suspicious, paranoid and cruel are some of the messages. As always, reasonable people recognize good work. Thank you. Nor will I ever give up writing what I want on my own blog and at my own expense.
If I believed in God and the Devil (I’m still working on God), I would say that Satan has discovered the possibilities of social media, spreading hatred, suspicion, lies, judgment, and anger over our world with no moral counterforce to fight back, no thriving religion to offer civility and love and morality. If he is alive, he is drunk with joy on his Ipad.
In these exchanges, what seems striking is that truth doesn’t seem to matter at all, lies are not challenged or punished, and there are no consequences for being cruel and dishonest. Armies of people troll daily, looking for outrage and hate.
When I do try to fight back, people accuse me of being nasty. Of course, they do.
Some of my readers have been reduced to pleading with me to keep writing as if I would let these people stop me. Delilah assaults me for meddling, and then show us how to do it. The world is upside down.
This is the beginning of a new phase for me. I think we miss the idea of God and of a faith that speaks out for decency, compassion, and morality. Telling the truth is a good place to begin. Our leaders don’t even bother to try.
The idea that I am getting rich off of the Army of Good is another noxious fable stirring my messages. My taxes tell a very different story; if I cared about money, I would have stayed in publishing and made some. I gave up on a life lived for money, I will never go back.
But there is no point in answering these accusations or arguing with them because no one cares much about what is true and accurate. Good people know better, the haters are always looking for fuel. Those are my thoughts about what you write, Delilah, and Charles, and the others, and I thank you for getting me to think. That is always a good thing. And if I end up coming to terms with God, that could be a great thing. Best, Jon
You *do* make money from your blog, even if only a little bit. And you *do* publish pictures of minor children and of the elderly Mansion residents without the written consent of parents, guardians, or of powers of attorney. That is both exploitative and illegal. Your fundraising work is admirable, but your insistence on publishing unauthorized photographs is not.
This is both false and dishonest, Paula. Every photograph of every child is approved by a parent or guardian. And everyone is used to raise money for their families.
The elderly Mansion residents and/or their families are always asked for permission and no photo is taken without it. I never disclose health information, which is what HIPPA appropriately prohibits. The photographs raise money for the residents and their needs.
No one in America can walk into a school and take photos of minor children or older children without proper permission. The Mansion residents are not incoherent or unable to understand photographs, and their families are also always asked for permission in advance. These permissions are signed and stored in the office, both at the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School. This is for my protection from people like you.
For the record, and for the sake of truth, I make no money from donations to the Mansion or Bishop Maginn, blog support is a separate thing with a separate account, audited regularly by a bookkeeper and a certified CPA in New York City I do this because it is the law and because I know there are people out there just waiting to lie.
There are ALWAYS permissions from parents, guardians or powers of attorney, sometimes all three. Photographs would never be permitted without those, not by the Mansion, the high school, the state or federal governments. It is a serious and defamatory lie to say I insist on taking photographs without permission.
And it is totally false to say so.
You are right about one thing.
It is a little bit of money to pay for the cost of the blog. I see that truth does not matter to you in the least, but it might matter to other people, and the residents and the children ought not suffer for that. No photograph is ever taken without permission, that would be insane as well as unethical and illegal. I am very proud of the work I do there and will continue it for as long as I can.
Very interesting conversation you had with Ian. My husband and I had a conversation with his grandson pointing out the difference between a job and a career. He was in his early 20’s, floundering a bit and unsure of his future. He pursued his passion and is now a Fire Chief in a mid-sized city. Her told us years later that he had never looked at life opportunities that way and thanked us. Yes, we teared up.
Nice, he is lucky to know you, thanks Linda.
I’m sure your conversation with Ian will germinate with him as well
i think we should have a law that says don’t take your 20s too seriously, explore a lot, have a lot of FUN, a LOT, and then get serious, if you must, in your 30s. There should be a fund for people in their 20s, like social security, maybe “Twenties Fun Fund.” Im so impressed b by this kid writing poetry, shearing sheep, hauling slate, (the muscles must be strong)…I bet he plays music somewhere too.
It’s obvious to me that the haters and complainers don’t really read to understand what you are saying. They only “get” what they want to and then complain about that. I can’t recall anything you’ve written that was not thoroughly explained from many points of view. The sad state of communication these days seems to be that some people don’t want to hear anything that deviates from their own point of view. I, as you have done repeatedly, just eliminate those those types from my life. There seems to be no other choice.
Jon,
Is it time for you to delete the trolls and driftwood on your blog? I think you are letting them get to you too much and really upsetting you enough to waste a lot of time replying. You are a professional in what you do, after many years as a journalist and a writer and now a distinguished member of the new caste of bloggers. You do not need to justify yourself to these oiks. Your regular readers know your history and knowledge of your trades. Level these idiots by the roadside.
Erika, thanks for the thoughtful post. I have by and large deleted the trolls, I hardly post their messages at all any longer, But sometimes, as in the case of the deeply troubled Paula, I need to respond, as these rumors and theories and accusations can spread quickly across the unchecked Internet. If that happens, it would hurt the Mansion residents and the refugees and their families.
There are lots of people out there who have no idea what to believe, and no tools for sorting it out. Social media is a goon to the angry and disturbed. It’s a free ride without checks or penalties. So I won’t completely ignore these assaults, I am and will pick my shots carefully and hopefully, thoughtfully. This is the world I live in, and I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.
Thanks for your thoughts, as always, valuable.
Jon
> Ian… [maybe] won’t see again…
Guessing you mean in the long term and about “serious topics”. Sounded like a good effort by all, to me. That counts. FWIW, I have found that true connections in my life appear and disappear and reappear, sometimes after decades. When there is real connection, I suspect it lasts a long time, maybe forever. The actual “relationship” may manifest many ways (and change) – social, work, shared enthusiasm, serious discussion, correspondence, helping out… Maybe just a card once in a while. Who knows. There’s all different ways a spirit incarnates.
Seems to me it’s better to try to do something, if you believe in it, than to hold back. Reach for the peach.
And regarding skill, experience, propriety, or any other “perfectness”… Another way I’ve heard the above expressed: If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing badly. Took me a few to figure that one out, but I think it’s right on. Just wish I practiced it more…
Cheers,
Rufus