“Who are you…”
Dateline: The waters of Logan Martin Lake
This is the story of a small town called,
A small town, by itself in a universe of a billion,
A small town with only one family, named,
And yet, we are a small town of,
Every time I see a photo of the universe, of all the various stars and galaxies, I only actually have one thought, and it is this,
folks, we may be all we’ve got.
Who knows what’s out there in the cold, in the dark, watching, waiting, thinking, but I guarantee that if something is out there watching us, to them or it, we are just one, all the same.
It is only us, in the small town, that believes in differences.
One day, I hope to do a story, without words.
A story that will show just how much we are actually the same, and I will do it this way, at a Bass Pro Shops Bassmaster Open registration with a couple of hundred people showing up.
I’ll stand at the end of the registration line, and as each person walks by I will ask them just one question, one sentence, and it will be this:
“Tell me, who are you, what do you do, what are your hopes, your dreams, your loves, your fears, your wisdom; pick one of those and tell me, who are you.”
And I will print every answer; print every sentence of their words, not mine.
Because I know, after doing thousands of interviews in my life as a reporter, when you read all of the couple hundred sentences, one thing will become clear to you.
You will hear about your dreams, your loves, your fears, your wisdom, all told to you by strangers.
And you will hear that because at our core, we are not strangers, at all.
We are, in fact, all family, here living on this small town,