I had seven e-mails from an older gentleman who is the president of a highly respected nonprofit asking me to become his friend on Facebook. It was so unnerving I joined Facebook just to make the e-mails stop.
Facebook is no longer hip since CEOs, everybody’s mother and geezers started signing on. Adults have invaded the land of cool.
The poor kids. They are now waiting for the next technological development that
will allow them to construct yet another bubble where they can escape from
their parents. It may involve implanting computer chips in their brains so they
can mentally telegraph messages like “U home?” and “Call me.”
When I told our kids I was on Facebook, they responded with unanimous horror, telling me to be careful and not post personal information. You’d think I was 15, hormonal and in need of adult supervision.
I’m trying to get the hang of Facebook, but it’s not going well. Social networking on Facebook involves posting a lot of
messages about how you are feeling, what you are doing and what you are
thinking. I often open my page and see posts like the following: “Mary is thinking about chicken parmesan.” “Julie is making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.” “Becca is considering bacon this morning.”
I’ve gained five pounds just reading the wall posts. Many of the other posts
concern fatigue: “Jeff is feeling wiped.” “Sue is going to take a nap.” “Diane had an exhausting weekend and is turning in early.”
I will never be good at Facebook because I am a rash person who eats and sleeps without giving any consideration to telling a hundred of my closest friends (actually only 92) what I am doing. I would never let a computer stand between me and the refrigerator or me and a bed when I am dog tired.
The best thing to happen to me on Facebook is that I am now a member of the Plymouth High School Class of ’79 Alumni network. This is especially nice since I have never set foot inside Plymouth High School.
A Facebook friend of a friend inadvertently pulled me into an alumni network
and, since I didn’t have many friends and these people didn’t appear to be stalkers, I just kept adding them to my friend list. I was
feeling pretty good about it, and boosting the paltry number of friends I had
on Facebook, when my new friends started asking questions like: “What was your maiden name in high school?” “Some of us are having trouble placing you.” “I’ve gotten forgetful. Can you remind us who you are?”
I thought about claiming I had been head cheerleader or student council president, but it is a small school in a small town and there is always the danger someone would ask if I can still do a back flip or hold a grudge about some unpleasant event at the prom.
I finally let them know they couldn’t remember me from high school because I didn’t attend their high school. They were very nice about the whole affair. As a matter of fact, they seem so nice that the husband and I are considering attending the reunion.
Oh, and for the record: “Lori is thinking about lunch.”
Contact Lori Borgman at firstname.lastname@example.org. This article is distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.