Since I’ve started writing at the Spartan I check on the paper’s webpage quite frequently.It’s interesting to see who comments on the articles. Sometimes it’s an alumni reminiscing on their time at Castleton, or two people battling back and forth trying to argue each other’s point. The comments usually make me laugh, mostly because people get riled up about some of the stuff we print in the paper.
Last year I thought something weird was going on when a guy named Tom was constantly commenting on the freshman column. The girl writing it never really
said anything about it in front of me, and I never really thought to ask her. The comments were odd coming from another student, but I figured she knew this Tom fellow. One week Tom went online and wrote, “Great column and great photo of you. I pictured you a little taller and thinner,” on her column. Comments like this started to make me curious about Tom. Was he a boyfriend?
If he happened to be her boyfriend after all, these comments would still seem weird to post.
“Glad to have you back in Fresh Perspectives. Money dwindling? Maybe you should cut out the late night runs to Taco Bell,” also came across a little creepy to me. I wasn’t just curious about Tom, but a little concerned now.
Seeing comments continue to surface on her articles, and having conspiracy theories
with other writers on staff of Tom’s identity, I was convinced this kid was either smitten with the writer or he was a full fledged stalker.
Months passed, and I still had no clue who Tom was. I was in New York City with some of the other Spartan staff members for a journalism conference and Tom’s name somehow came up in a conversation with the freshman writer.
She blushed and started to laugh. I knew as soon as this reaction came across her face that Tom wasn’t in college, he wasn’t a boyfriend, or even a stalker.
“Tom is my dad,” she said before the circle of listeners exploded with laughter.
It was too obvious to have even crossed my mind. No longer did these comments come across as a plea for a restraining order, but rather they now read like a goofy father taking an interest in his daughters writing. The mystery of who Tom was finally
came to an end. After months of being curious I now knew what I had been aching to find out. Although the mystery had been solved the fun didn’t stop. Knowing who Tom was made reading his posts a bi-weekly
habit of mine.
I used to read the comments to get a quick laugh at the online arguments, and the alumni stories of yesteryear, but now I mostly keep an eye out for more Tom activity.