<HONEA EXPRESS: It's a Small World
honeaexpress

It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

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Please pardon the dust and update your feed readers accordingly. Thank you - Whit

Monday, March 12, 2007

It's a Small World

I have said it before and it stands repeating. I love this little Internet thing that Al Gore threw together. I love it so much I want to take it behind the middle school and get it pregnant.

Over the lifespan of this blog, and my time at The Disney Blog, DadCentric, and Dadbloggers, respectively, (not to mention my goofy old ass creeping kids out over at MySpace) I have been contacted again and again by friends long lost, but not forgotten.

It is refreshing to hear from the ghosts of childhood past. They're all growns up and they're all growns up. The paths that sprung from the narrow tines of our collective spork have bent in the undergrowth, grown grassy and wanting for wear, and led us to a world of difference.

Yet, like the song, we remain the same.

It was twenty years ago today that I was sitting in some classroom, counting down the seconds to freedom and passing the time by dreaming up skirts; and still, when I see the names appear magically on my computer screen, I am there again, brief as it may be, and it makes me smile.

There are others in the blogging community that choose to write under an alias, which is fine, that is their choice. I suppose their anonymity allows them the carte blanch to run free, but then they miss the virtual embraces of their past. Maybe that's the idea. Me? I've got nothing to fear and nothing to hide. Anyone that has dirt on me is missing or dead. I sleep well.

Is it worth it, standing (sitting) here naked (figuratively) for all to read? Yes, it cleanses the soul and may possibly prevent blackheads. It relieves stress without the guilt of masturbation. In a word, it's supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Knowing that somebody, somewhere out there, is wishing on the same bright star is a note of hope, and that my long lost chums still care to remember me, well that makes the hope full.

Hello old friend(s).