When did we agree to be watched?

When did we agree to be watched?

It wasn't Washington that made me think about it. It was a quiet drive through Florida.I had spent several days helping my son unpack after his move to Fishhawk Ranch. Like every mother, I was doing what mothers do: organizing closets, opening boxes, trying to make an unfamiliar place feel like home. From there, I drove north to Brooksville to interview someone for an article.The most dangerous surveillance system isn’t the one we reject. It's t…