blabbermouthAs I was growing up, my mother kept telling me, “Don’t be a blabbermouth, chops everlasting!”

Of course, after I kept my mouth shut for just so long, the cork would pop and everything would spill out.

After the children were all grown and gone, I moved into a bachelor apartment, and tried to stay to myself.   The old demon returned, however, and I ended up telling my secrets to the lady in Apartment 30.  It didn’t take long for me to realize what a mistake I had made – my private information had been spread all over our apartment complex.

The worst part of the breach of confidence was her embellishments.  For example, I had told her I spent one night in juvenile detention, and that was translated into ex-con.  You get the picture.

You would think I had learned my lesson.

After spending 13 years in the same apartment, I moved out for about a year or so.  While I was gone, I wrote a couple of letters to the lady in Apartment 69.  ARE YOU CRAZY – DID YOU LEARN NOTHING!

Apparently not.  When I got back, the lady in Apartment 69 had spread all my news quite thoroughly.

I tell you that story so I can tell you this one.

Last Friday and Saturday, I helped a lady in a nearby apartment with her computer.  It was really messed up, and it took me quite some time to dis-infect.  The lady had a unique name, and cleaning her machine was also a unique experience. I wanted to blog about it, using her name.

paranoiaI left a message on her answering machine to ask permission to use her name, but she never returned my call.  I did not use her name in my story about the “Demons in the machine.”

CONCLUSION:  The lady with the broken computer has learned what my mother tried to teach me – “Don’t tell all you know!”

I think her reaction has gone just a little bit further, however.  I think the general mistrust we all have for government and our neighbors is escalating.  Not knowing who to trust, we trust no one.

That is sad.




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