If wishes were horses

I stood outside the car this morning watching J and K get on the bus and settle into their seats. As I raised my arm to wave (noting J was already searching out the window for the final salutation before school, while K - not a morning person - was digging intently through her backpack to fish out her mp3 player and earbuds), it occurred to me that both girls sit in the exact same seats every day. They are the first stop, so except for the seats claimed by the boys who get on at the same time, they have their pick of any spot. A sea of dark green pleather awaits them, and they unquestioningly seek out the places they chose on the first day of school more than 7 months ago.

I was reminded of a remark made by my favorite Economics professor from undergrad. She noted on the first day of class, "Pay attention to the desk you chose. You will sit in that same exact chair every day for the rest of the semester." It was kind of a smart-ass, smug thing to say now that I think about it. But it was also a segue into the topic of human behavior as it relates to predictability and macro-economics. That's all economics is, after all - psychology and statistics. Anyway. The teacher was telling us about unconscious assumptions, and she was right. That desk I chose was 'mine' as far as I was concerned. I would have been shocked had someone else elected to sit there in any subsequent class.

What are the assumptions you make?

J and I drove through fog yesterday morning en route to the bus, and before I launched into an esoteric and overly-detailed discussion of temperatures, humidity and evaporation, I quipped, "We can't even see up the hill! We have to just assume the rest of the road is there like it usually is!" J immediately responded with enthusiasm and without a lick of fear, "Yeah! It might have fallen away in the night!" I could tell by her tone that this sort of abstract thinking makes her brain feel good. Oh, the possibilities! And yet, we both assumed the road was in its normal, rightful place.

We assume the seasons will change as they always have, that we know our spouses like we know ourselves, and that our home is a safe place. And I have always assumed that about 4 people read this blog - and probably not all of the posts at that - and that they are people I know. I am aware there are people who dig through trash to find social security numbers in order to pilfer money by stealing an 'identity', and I have mulled over the idea that there are child abductors and molesters who prowl neighborhoods in search of unsuspecting victims. I have even searched the web to determine if there are convicted sex offenders in my local area. There are.

But it never occurred to me that someone might find my blog, look at pictures of the girls, somehow find my whole name by piecing together clues on my location, hack my Facebook account and stalk my family. Thank God that hasn't happened as of yet (not that I know of, actually), but JBL brought the prospect to my attention recently. He has been doing work in the land of Cybersecurity and has heard first-hand accounts of such activities from FBI agents. Such victimizing is incredibly easy to do for the criminally motivated, they say.

So now what? I have removed last names and images from most other sites I frequent. I have removed all links to this blog. JBL says I should remove all old posts, especially ones that contain photos. This all makes my stomach hurt. Through the internet, I have found a very small but important community of friends that make me feel connected, and the idea that anyone I befriend might read my words and like them has brought me happiness. No longer.

I wish it wasn't such a sad, sad world out there. But, as the old nursery rhyme goes, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. My assumptions have been common and childlike, and I need to change them. Heaven help me.