November 1, 2010--Facebooking

I finally broke down. After years of looking down my considerable nose at friends who are devoted Facebook participants (is this the right way to describe their involvement?), late last week I became a member.

This seismic shift in the way I had been thinking about social networking is the result of two things--

On the way to do some chores in Rockland we passed a movie theater that was showing Social Network and since the timing worked for us we bought a couple of tickets and had a private showing--in these parts of Maine during the early afternoon, everyone is either working or taking care of kids and thus we were the only people in the theater.

I would give the film just one thumbs up. Though I thought it enjoyable to me it was not much better in its depth of understanding the Facebook phenomenon than a made-for-TV movie. But the fact that in just a few years one-fourteenth of the entire world's population participates caused me to wonder why that might be and what I was be missing.

Then, the next morning at the Bristol Diner, after the morning regulars had cleared out, I asked Doug and Angie, Facebook enthusiasts, why they like it so much. Doug said it's like joining friends at a cafe for coffee. Facebook provides a good why to chitchat and keep up with each other's lives. Angie said that though she doesn't go to too many cocktail parties, it's sort of an on-line party. There are a lot of people there who you know but may not be that close to while others are friends; and while at the party you drift from person to person, group to group and find a way to have a good time.

This I understood. I'm not much for cocktail parties myself but I do enjoy meandering conversations while lingering with friends over coffee at a cafe or diner.

And one more thing--

With almost everyone I know and soon most of the people on the planet finding Facebook so important to them how can I consider myself a modern person and not get in on the action? Also, knowing how disciplined I am, or can be, I convinced myself that there was no danger of getting so involved that I would neglect my work and my off-line friends.

So with Rona's help I signed up.

I wasn't too happy being required to give my birthdate--I don't like to make much of a big deal about October 2nd and I am of an age where I don't want too many people knowing just what that age is.

Rona said not to worry, I could keep that information private, between me and Facebook; and sure enough when my homepage was created, including what I think is a pretty cute picture of me, neither my birthday nor my age appears, though I notice that the ads that keep popping up on my homepage are decidedly pitched to senior citizens. Lots of Viagra ads, thank you Jeff Zuckerberg.

As I'm sure most of you know, you're then asked to go down a long list of people you may know (the list is provided by Facebook) and then either reach out to them ("Add As Friend" in Facebook-speak) or click "Ignore." Of course I clicked Ignore for everyone listed, including close friends, family members, and even Rona.

"The last thing I want," I said to Rona who was still at my side guiding me, "is to get a million emails from Facebook requiring me to respond to people from PS 244 who I haven't seen of thought about in more than 60 years. And what with my and their pictures posted, we'd all look old and fat and bald."

"So why are you doing this?" Rona asked, more than a little annoyed. She was right, she had better things to do getting the Maine house ready to be shut down for the winter than helping me join Facebook and then having me opting not to interact with anyone, including her.

Feeling guilty that I was wasting Rona's remaining time up here and also realizing that the hundred or so people I was mercilessly ignoring would somehow, via Facebook, know I was actively and intentionally ignoring them, I got with the program, figured out how to retrieve the list, and began frantically to click on "Add As Friend" for pretty much everyone.

And so it began.

When I turned on the computer very early the next morning my email Inbox was flooded by responses from dozens who indicated that, yes, they wanted to be my friend!

At five in the morning with the late October wind howling and the propane heater not as yet beginning to make things cozy, how good does it feel to have former elementary and high school classmates from half a century ago, work colleagues from decades back, current friends, and family members telling me, even via the cool medium that is my laptop, that they want to be my friend.

That Jeff Zuckerberg, I thought, no wonder he's the youngest billionaire ever. How genius of him that rather than calling us Facebook "members" or "participants" we are Friends.

That one choice of desigantion must be responsible for at least half his billions.

With everyone in motion, with families scattered, with the impossible task of attempting to stay in touch with people from the past as lives diverge, how nice indeed it is to be able, with just a few clicks of one's mouse, to find out where Heshy Perlmutter is and how his life unfolded since our last contact back in the 1950s.

How nice to see pictures of S__ M_____'s beautiful children after having lost touch with her more than 10 years ago. How nice to know that my accountant, M____ E______ wants me to be her Friend. How good to see that though dear friend R__ S_____ lost his beloved wife almost a year ago he is doing as well as possible and since his network of Facebook Friends is growing this suggests he is managing to reengage with the world.

Less than a week into it, I do find that I am spending more time Facebooking than I anticipated, in spite of my self-promoted discipline. For example, just yesterday I caught myself spending two hours communicating back and forth with Friends but gave myself dispensation because, after all, it's just a few days since I signed up. I feel certain that my enthusiasm will abate in another day or too.

With more than a touch of skepticism, knowing me as I actually am, Rona said, "We'll see."