My Dear

Every now and then an email shows up in my spam list with the message title, "My Dear." To me the title is strange. I wonder to whom I can be dear to other than my immediate family. I look at that email title and wonder, "Should I open it to find out to whom I am so dear a message over electronic media must be sent."

No, I don't open it. I am paranoid about letters from strange people. Sometimes a letter comes in the mail addressed to me by hand. Since it is addressed by someone taking the time to write on the envelope it has to be important. I open it and find it is a diatribe against abortion or a plea for money to halt the criminal behavior of currently elected officials, or something like that.

Also, often I get telephone calls from the police protection league or some such group. I have never heard of the police protection group or the sheriffs' association or the state highway patrolmans' family defense league. So, with some guilt I might add, I say, "I can't help you today." What if there really is such an organization and my help is desperately needed to save the life of some poor police officer and his family? "What if," I ponder, but no its a scam there is no such group; besides, if they want me help let the local police ask.

Anyway, "My Dear" sits in the list of emails unopened. I ask the same "what if" questions. What if that poor Nigeria mother is truly desperate and in need of assistance, or what if there really is $10 million waiting for me in some off-shore bank. All I am being asked to do is give my full name, address, social security number, and bank account number; that's innocent enough, isn't it? But I hesitate and opportunities to help some unfortunates go not taken and I remain a poor man letting riches go between my fingers all because of paranoia.

Maybe one day I will open a "My Dear" email and learn to whom I am so dear time is taken to reach out to me from the ozone or wherever emails come from and I will realize all the opportunities I have let go.