With Friends Like These...

I've only had my own blog for a short period of time, but I was a regular commentator on Bill Medvecky's Free the FLDS children blog for several years. I've learned from experience that bloggers and commentators have followers. They also have enemies. Sometimes they have more enemies than followers.

I recently wrote two articles for this blog about a serial killer named Francis Hernandez. I wrote these articles for several reasons. First, I wanted to write about something serious. (You know, Cupcake really does have a brain.) Secondly, I wanted to prove that I could write an article that is pro law enforcement if I want to. Thirdly, I was briefly acquainted with Fran Hernandez when I was a teenager. When I think about him, I'm grateful that I'm alive. (Hey, I survived.) Finally, I thought people from my home town would enjoy reading it.

Like most writers, I want to be read. I was happy because some people actually took the time to read my blog. A few people praised those articles. (It's been hard leaving Bill's blog and starting my own. Thank you for your support. I love you all.)

But not everyone felt that way. One person said that Francis Hernandez was a coward who wasn't worth remembering. I disagree. My experience with Fran taught me that is is possible to look at pure evil in the face but not realize it.

Some people only wanted to remember happy times. Others were afraid that I might bring up things in their past -- things that they don't want other people to know.

So I'm going to cut to the chase. I have no desire to post anyone's drunkalog on my blog. The first article was based on my memories of Fran. You might remember it differently than I do. That doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth. I might give out my blog's address and ask people to read my work, but Fran Hernandez was the only person I wanted to embarrass when I wrote those articles.

I am NOT the type of person who would tell a friend's child something that I thought might embarrass or humiliate the parent. I'm a mother myself. I wouldn't like it if someone did that to me. So why would I want to do that to you?

If you are racked with guilt because of the way you used to live, go to a counselor. Do not project it onto me.

It will take a lot more than a few former friends to make me quit writing about what I want to write.