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For several years, I searched for a woman who was involved with the Surratts as a spy during the Civil War. When I stood before her actual grave I felt a significant sense of peace envelope me. After many years, I had finally found her. Like a narrative, it was not simply the effort to make sense of the facts left from her life but also the give and take in communicating with many people, who were trying to understand and locate this woman. In reality, it was their narratives that helped provide the clues to resolving her mystery and whereabouts.
Storytelling is a gift in the world of general communication. When we speak or write something in either the private or public domain, we emit clues about who and where we are, as well as what we are thinking about. Case in point, this Civil War woman and her friends had listed names, locations, and events that allowed me to track her. Historic documents and records became tools and clues that opened doors into the world she had lived. There were false directions, but with a moment of epiphany, the ultimate course of deduction became apparent.
In today's world, as I watch people sending messages to one another via text and email, I think about what they are saying in their messages. The millennium generation sends mini narratives in text or emails every day. As a researcher I wonder if they consider that someone at a much later point may try to use their information to find something out about them. The next time you write to someone in one form or another remember that you are providing a path that someone can follow. In this highly networked narrative world think about whether you really want them to follow you. If so, you might create a public domain narrative that reflects your cultural and personal response. If you want to remain anonymous, perhaps you send a protected message that only few will follow and remain a private citizen in the global world.
