June 28, 2009

Demon -- your name is Face Book

Like Carrie Nation standing over a sinner’s still, I guardedly watched Son and his laptop last summer for signs that it was taking him to a life of drinking, gambling, and fast women. I was afraid of Face book-- afraid that something bad would happen to a teenager on his computer.

With my own new computer and the urging of more than a few middle-aged geeky friends, I have succumbed to the demon Face book. And I cannot stop.

I have taken quizzes to learn odd things, Am I a Potato? (No) What Gilligan’s Island character am I most like? (The Professor)

Several weeks ago I attended a banquet for a local non-profit organization. A bank executive, whose wife is a friend, said, “A. couldn’t be with me tonight,” and I jumped in, “Yes, she’s at soccer and getting her hair cut.”

T – M – I – Too much information. Why do I know this, and why it is important that I know this? A. posted and I read it. I cannot stop.

In my defense, I do know a lot of interesting people:

My friend L. in Florida, who lost her dear husband G. last year, hosted a birthday party for him last month at his memorial site, and posted the pictures. What a great way to remember him with a party and celebration of his wonderful life.

Friends from West Virginia moving to Texas – who both post to Face book from mobile devices – shared pictures from their house hunting trip and sought reader input. I learned they bid on House # 1, a beautiful brick suburban home with a great pool – and are waiting to hear back from the inspector.

Last night while trolling a friend’s posts, I spied a picture of a pastor friend in his red vestments on home plate at Bosse Field performing a wedding ceremony. The setting for A League of Their Own is a great place for a wedding, though I do not know the people who were married.

Another friend’s profile picture shows her with Greg Brady! You know, the oldest Brady boy! That has to be the coolest Baby Boomer photo ever!

Other people have far more interesting lives that I do. Mostly I sit at my keyboard and write about my cats. All I need is a rocking chair and more cats to be labeled a true eccentric. Although I’ve heard you really need four cats to be known as a true eccentric. Maybe I’ll post pictures of myself wearing funny hats.

Somehow the virtual world has overtaken my real world this summer.
I have no life. Back to the rocker and the kitty-cats. And don’t even get me started on “Linked In.” Quoth the raven.