Facebook over 40
Facebook. I first joined Facebook about 6 months ago to see if my son's friends were "on" and if they were "networking" with each other. I wanted to be the mom who knew the scoop, who understood the online scene. I created a very bland profile, which basically meant I signed up with my name and my email. There was no photo of me, no additional contact information, no personal data. I just wanted to see if this was the new hot spot for the eighth grade set. I wanted to know what the cool kids were doing, what was "in" and what was "out." So once I was officially logged in, I hit the "search" button and typed in my son's name. Nothing. I typed in some of his friend's names. Nothing. I tried a few days later. Nothing. Eventually, I forgot about it completely.
Until Thanksgiving, when a friend of mine asked if I had a Facebook account.
"I think I might," I said, "but I don't use it. I opened it to see if Jono's friends were using Facebook."
"Jono's friends aren't using it," she said, "but all of our friends are. Go on tonight and see."
"Huh," I said, noncommittally. I remained uninterested. I had been bored with the concept when I had first perused the website. I might take a look, I thought. I might not.
That night, I was up late. I pulled out my laptop and searched "Facebook." I logged in, guessing at my password. I was right. There I was. . . A blue portrait head representing me on my profile. Christy Chafe. Nothing special about her. But. . . what was this?
"You have nine friend requests."
Now, that's kind of fun. . . I clicked on the requests. . . Diana from Book Club, Anna-Liisa, who had mentioned Facebook just this afternoon, a couple of my brother's friends, some high school friends. I clicked to accept the requests. Confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm. Suddenly, I could access my new (old!) friends' profile pages on Facebook, and I was stunned at what I found. There were photos and conversations and quizzes and lists of favorite things. Hey. . . I have favorite things, too. I started to panic. My profile was so blank, and it had been for six months. And these friend requests had been ignored, just sitting there, ignored. Quickly, I downloaded a picture to replace the blue Facebook head on my page. I updated my interests, my education background, my favorite quotes, books, movies, music, and activities. I breathed a giant social-networking-sigh of relief. I was not a blank profile. I was a Facebook Someone. I searched friends and invited them to be my Facebook Friends. I took some Facebook quizzes. I emailed people and added "Music I Like" to my profile. What if someone searched my page and wanted to know my favorite song? I certainly didn't want to disappoint them. By 3:00 A.M. I was Facebook Fluent, and I had an up-and-running profile. I was as addicted as I could possibly be.
There are those that are less than enamored. Those that would consider Facebook a time-waster. I'm sure, to some degree, that this could be true. However, after my major overdose on that first night, I now enjoy checking my profile in the late evenings. I am still completely amazed when someone from grade school or high school finds me and we re-connect. I get a kick when I read that "Rayo is a fan of Skyline Chili, " or "Jimmy and his baby are watching the Bengals and both are crying." On Facebook, it is totally fine for you to join a fan club of a food, a movie, a person, a cartoon, a piece of furniture, a cloud formation, or a bad smell. Where else can you send virtual gifts, virtual snowballs, virtual elves, gnomes, buttons, bumper stickers, fish, plants, hugs, kisses or drinks to your friends? Some of these virtual operations exist to save the planet, fund a charity, raise awareness, or just promote feel-goodness, and truly, I think it all works. I love opening my account and seeing my "notifications" blinking: two friend requests, one snowball request, two Christmas gifts. That doesn't happen in real life. And it might not happen on Facebook in the junior high set. It happens on Facebook over 40.
"Who do you talk to on Facebook," asked my son.
"Mrs. Edwards," I said.
"You talk to her everyday anyway."
True enough.
During the election, Facebook offered political outlets. I could decorate my profile with "yard signs" for my choice of candidates. Facebook members could join groups in support of (or against) candidates and issues. I could attend "Facebook Election Day" and if I wanted to announce for whom I had voted, and when I had voted, I could. Election day was tracked on Facebook all day.
My parents are now on Facebook. (As my brother questioned, "Is that even allowed?!) Lisa is Facebook friends with my parents. My brothers are both friends with Lisa. Lisa, Cindy, and I are all friends. We are all also friends with Dee and Eve. Cindy just "friended" my parents. Lynn, my best friend from second grade just joined Facebook and all of our high school friends are on and chatting again, together. Madeira High School, Class of 1986—fan of Friendly's Restaurant? I think so.
Is Facebook a bit of an escape? Yes. But also, I believe it is a real vehicle for reconnecting with my past. Friends are providing me with memories and stories and laughs that bring me moments of great joy, that remind me of bits of myself that I might of forgotten, or bits of themselves that I once really enjoyed and am so glad to remember. I have found (or been found by) theater friends, college friends, old neighbors. One of the most lovely connections have been some family members that live so far away that I used to only see them every few years. Now we chat every few days.
On Facebook, my favorite feature is the "update your status." It might say, "Christy is writing a blog," or "Lisa is contemplating going to the gym." It gives me a little snippet into the lives of my friends and family. I have heard of people who update far too often. . . like, "So-and-so is wondering how that lady got her parking space," and then, "So-and-so is not really happy with her parking space." I don't think status updates are meant to be updated every 6 seconds, but on Facebook, to each her own.
If I had to create a status update right now, it would read like this: "Christy really enjoys Facebook. If Jono and his friends are on Facebook she would never know. She is too busy playing with her friends."
Until Thanksgiving, when a friend of mine asked if I had a Facebook account.
"I think I might," I said, "but I don't use it. I opened it to see if Jono's friends were using Facebook."
"Jono's friends aren't using it," she said, "but all of our friends are. Go on tonight and see."
"Huh," I said, noncommittally. I remained uninterested. I had been bored with the concept when I had first perused the website. I might take a look, I thought. I might not.
That night, I was up late. I pulled out my laptop and searched "Facebook." I logged in, guessing at my password. I was right. There I was. . . A blue portrait head representing me on my profile. Christy Chafe. Nothing special about her. But. . . what was this?
"You have nine friend requests."
Now, that's kind of fun. . . I clicked on the requests. . . Diana from Book Club, Anna-Liisa, who had mentioned Facebook just this afternoon, a couple of my brother's friends, some high school friends. I clicked to accept the requests. Confirm, confirm, confirm, confirm. Suddenly, I could access my new (old!) friends' profile pages on Facebook, and I was stunned at what I found. There were photos and conversations and quizzes and lists of favorite things. Hey. . . I have favorite things, too. I started to panic. My profile was so blank, and it had been for six months. And these friend requests had been ignored, just sitting there, ignored. Quickly, I downloaded a picture to replace the blue Facebook head on my page. I updated my interests, my education background, my favorite quotes, books, movies, music, and activities. I breathed a giant social-networking-sigh of relief. I was not a blank profile. I was a Facebook Someone. I searched friends and invited them to be my Facebook Friends. I took some Facebook quizzes. I emailed people and added "Music I Like" to my profile. What if someone searched my page and wanted to know my favorite song? I certainly didn't want to disappoint them. By 3:00 A.M. I was Facebook Fluent, and I had an up-and-running profile. I was as addicted as I could possibly be.
There are those that are less than enamored. Those that would consider Facebook a time-waster. I'm sure, to some degree, that this could be true. However, after my major overdose on that first night, I now enjoy checking my profile in the late evenings. I am still completely amazed when someone from grade school or high school finds me and we re-connect. I get a kick when I read that "Rayo is a fan of Skyline Chili, " or "Jimmy and his baby are watching the Bengals and both are crying." On Facebook, it is totally fine for you to join a fan club of a food, a movie, a person, a cartoon, a piece of furniture, a cloud formation, or a bad smell. Where else can you send virtual gifts, virtual snowballs, virtual elves, gnomes, buttons, bumper stickers, fish, plants, hugs, kisses or drinks to your friends? Some of these virtual operations exist to save the planet, fund a charity, raise awareness, or just promote feel-goodness, and truly, I think it all works. I love opening my account and seeing my "notifications" blinking: two friend requests, one snowball request, two Christmas gifts. That doesn't happen in real life. And it might not happen on Facebook in the junior high set. It happens on Facebook over 40.
"Who do you talk to on Facebook," asked my son.
"Mrs. Edwards," I said.
"You talk to her everyday anyway."
True enough.
During the election, Facebook offered political outlets. I could decorate my profile with "yard signs" for my choice of candidates. Facebook members could join groups in support of (or against) candidates and issues. I could attend "Facebook Election Day" and if I wanted to announce for whom I had voted, and when I had voted, I could. Election day was tracked on Facebook all day.
My parents are now on Facebook. (As my brother questioned, "Is that even allowed?!) Lisa is Facebook friends with my parents. My brothers are both friends with Lisa. Lisa, Cindy, and I are all friends. We are all also friends with Dee and Eve. Cindy just "friended" my parents. Lynn, my best friend from second grade just joined Facebook and all of our high school friends are on and chatting again, together. Madeira High School, Class of 1986—fan of Friendly's Restaurant? I think so.
Is Facebook a bit of an escape? Yes. But also, I believe it is a real vehicle for reconnecting with my past. Friends are providing me with memories and stories and laughs that bring me moments of great joy, that remind me of bits of myself that I might of forgotten, or bits of themselves that I once really enjoyed and am so glad to remember. I have found (or been found by) theater friends, college friends, old neighbors. One of the most lovely connections have been some family members that live so far away that I used to only see them every few years. Now we chat every few days.
On Facebook, my favorite feature is the "update your status." It might say, "Christy is writing a blog," or "Lisa is contemplating going to the gym." It gives me a little snippet into the lives of my friends and family. I have heard of people who update far too often. . . like, "So-and-so is wondering how that lady got her parking space," and then, "So-and-so is not really happy with her parking space." I don't think status updates are meant to be updated every 6 seconds, but on Facebook, to each her own.
If I had to create a status update right now, it would read like this: "Christy really enjoys Facebook. If Jono and his friends are on Facebook she would never know. She is too busy playing with her friends."
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