Phone Book Paranoia

Dearest Rachel –

I know a few people who are into the “true crime” genre of entertainment; heck, to a certain extent, I’ve started to follow a few YouTubers whose focus is in the genre (which – and I may have asked this of you in previous letters – I’d have been curious as to whether what you would have thought about, as you were into certain types of suspense and horror). The problem with such a preference is that it tends to breed a certain level of paranoia that bleeds into one’s own life. After all, the psychopaths and sociopaths described in these various documentaries tend to behave like perfectly normal people in public; one finds oneself wondering if and who in one’s own circles is like these awful people, and what levels of depravity hide behind the faces one sees every day.

Curiously enough, it rarely occurs to such people that others might look at them, too, with caution and concern for those very same reasons – and if it did, they would regard such suspicions with bemused hilarity. After all, they know themselves; they’re perfectly harmless, ordinary people. Why should anyone be afraid of them?

Of course, the very way they see – and describe – themselves ought to answer that question, but in the moment, few people truly have that level of self-awareness to arrive at that conclusion.

***

I mention this in part because I’ve had just such an accusation leveled at me, with the caveat added that the individual voicing their suspicions was a fan of such entertainment. In their mind, I seemed to fit the profile of the affable pathologue (whether socio- or psycho-, it wasn’t clear) who presented a perfectly normal face to the world, but concealed all manner of unknown dangers behind it. To be fair, such a description isn’t one I would be able to deny; such is the state of every human within the Christian viewpoint, a sinner trying his best (would it be sacrilegious to say “his damnedest”? ) not to be, repressing his ‘natural’ state for a ‘spiritual’ one. Additionally, without God’s help in such an endeavor, such efforts are bound to fail at some point (indeed, even with His help, they fail, as we will refuse to rely on Him to the extent that we should), so from a certain point of view, such suspicion and fear is justified. Why, you might recall how, even when we were courting (gosh, that sounds like such an archaic word to use, but I can’t think of one that fits better), I warned you that I wasn’t nearly as ‘safe’ a guy to be with than you though me to be, which bothered you not one whit.

Then again, some men like to be thought of – in the same vein as Lord Byron himself, who was so described – as “mad, bad and dangerous to know”; and likewise, there are some women who fancy such men. Personally, I don’t think I ranked (or rank) terribly high on the Byron Scale, but I can accept that I might be high enough to give some pause.

***

The other reason I bring up this topic is that, after sending yesterday’s letter, it occurred to me that I may have been overly specific in pointing out the location of your old house. To be sure, it called attention to itself in the form of its bright white roof, but it wouldn’t have be recognizable as such from a blurry satellite photograph if I hadn’t explicitly spelled out that that house was yours (well, the one you grew up in, anyway). You might have been able to put two and two together, but it wouldn’t necessarily have been clear to those reading over your shoulder – and in this day and age, why make it so obvious to them? Who knows what kind of people they are, out here on this wild and lawless place we know of as the internet?

Yes, it’s that same level of paranoia that is a logical result of consuming too much true crime entertainment. The fact that someone you don’t know has knowledge of where your home is – that’s a dreadful thought. Who knows what they might do with that information at some point?

The weird thing is that this was perfectly normal when we were growing up, albeit in a more analog, physical form. You remember phone books, don’t you, honey? Everybody’s name was listed in this huge book (well, it might not have been as huge as all that for McDonough County, but up here, it was pretty large – and it only covered the northwest suburbs, not the whole county by any stretch of the imagination) as part of what was referred to as the ‘white pages,’ because… well, those pages were white, as opposed to the ‘yellow pages’ of this same book, which were the way you found certain businesses back in the day.

This was how businesses drummed up business, before social media; this was how people found other people. All this information – name, address and phone number – were listed in a publicly-available format for all but the most paranoid, who paid extra to have ‘unlisted’ phone numbers – and while it was a hassle to go to a library to look up names and numbers in other metropolitan areas, it could be done, and nobody seemed to give it a second thought.

So why is it so much more of a concern now, that people know this kind of information? Are people worse than they used to be? That seems unlikely, as one expects human nature to remain constant over the years and generations. Maybe there’s less of a societal compulsion toward a certain standard of behavior, but if that were so, should it bother us? We’ve chosen to accept the way things have gotten; we’re in no position to object to the results we’ve permitted to exist. Maybe the fact that it’s so much easier and quicker to locate this information is the concern – although that would seem to be mitigated by the fact that the attention span of those looking is that much shorter. Any difficulties encountered in the process, and all but the most determined will quickly give up (consider the jokes making the rounds about the dangerous nature of Google’s second page, since no one bothers to venture that far when searching for information). But if they were that determined to find one, they would have made that kind of effort in the analog days of the phone book era, too.

So, as you can see, I’m torn (unlike most phone books) about whether I divulged too much yesterday. On the one hand, it was more specific than even the news tends to be, at least in terms of giving out actual addresses (although they marked the house being raided with an “X” on the satellite photo, which is hardly any different). On the other, is anyone reading over your shoulder really going to care about that? Once upon a time, when these satellite photos and street maps were just becoming a thing, we thought it was impressive that such obscure locations could be found; what changed about that, honey? Why is it that something we saw as “cool” a decade or two ago (and handy ever since) is now something to be frightened of? Are we getting too paranoid – do we too often assume the worst of everyone – or is it justified?

I know I’ll not get answers from you – and the people that surround you now are those whom I’d never have had to fear like that, anyway – but I do wish I could talk with you about this, and hear what you think. Still, just in case I’m not being paranoid enough, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m sure that, in either case, I’ll need it.