What effect can one voice have?

Among all the millions of people in the world who have decided in recent years that the world is dying to hear what they have to say, why should I think I can make a difference?

Maybe because I have in the past. For five years around the turn of the century, I wrote a three-times-weekly newspaper column for a suburban Los Angeles paper. It wasn't news analysis, it wasn't usually hard-hitting and it was rarely investigative journalism.

[caption id="attachment_19" align="alignright" width="300" caption="I was the &#39;heart.&#39;"]<img class="size-medium wp-image-19" title="DSCN0074" src="http://mikerappaport.net/onevoice/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/DSCN0074-300x224.jpg" alt="I was the 'heart.'" width="300" height="224" />[/caption]

What it was, was a look at people and families trying to pursue their version of the American Dream in California. It was about their hopes and fears, their dreams and nightmares, as folks tried to do the right thing in a world where that isn't always easy.

For five years, I made a difference.

When I asked readers to help someone down on their luck, they responded brilliantly. When I wrote about someone who was having trouble finding a donor for a liver transplant, a compatible donor came through.

It was the most amazing feeling you can imagine, and my only regret was that I was only able to do it for five years before new management decided my column was a luxury the budget couldn't afford.

A few years later, they decided <em>I</em> was a luxury the budget couldn't afford, but that's another story.

Writing a column wasn't the highlight of my life -- that's reserved for moments involving my wonderful wife, my amazing children and my little granddaughter -- but it's certainly something I remember fondly. It's also something that taught me that one voice speaking eloquently enough really can make a difference.

When I was blogging on a different site a few years ago, a young woman commenter started out sounding extremely bitter and sarcastic. I tried being playful with her and letting her know she didn't have to be so angry, that there were people out there who would be happy to be her friends. In the end she said it changed her life.

I've used this story several times before, but it's one that still resonates with me. Two men were walking on the beach after a storm that had left literally thousands of starfish high and dry. One man walked along picking up starfish one by one and gently placing them back into the water. His friend looked at him quizzically, pointing out there were thousands of starfish and he couldn't possibly