But blogs are public, you say. Yes, they are. But these blogs of mine are a) read by very few; b) not often plumbing the depths of my thoughts, let alone divulging secrets. We all have them, you know.
So why do I write them?
Well, it's kind of like a journal. Kind of.
Kind of keeping in touch. Kind of, although I am not sure with whom. I know most of my children don't read them. I've mentioned that before; maybe that means it bothers me. Maybe not.
I used to tell my students they should write with an audience in mind. I still believe that's true. Everything written is meant to be read. Otherwise it's like writing in a vacuum. Notice, I didn't say a particular audience, although that's okay, too, thinking of someone specific. But even if your audience has no name, if you think someone will read what you write, you might write it better or clearer or even with some flair. You might.
I will never forget the story of the Russian sailor who wrote what he could in the dark, not sure anyone would ever see it. They were trapped in a submarine on the ocean floor. And they died there.
Russian submarine K-141 Kursk - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
But he wrote. He said "I am writing blindly," yet something in him simply required that he write.
What is very interesting to me is that he didn't write his fear, though you might think he would. Perhaps he knew that to write his fear would be a waste of what few moments he had. He wrote of the 23 other men trapped in the compartment with him. Their names.
And he wrote his love.
And his words got out. To his wife, who, I am sure, thanked God that her husband wrote them.
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