Hanging out with Facebook

A couple of weeks ago I suggested to my faraway cousin Kathryn that she get a Facebook account so we could keep in closer touch. Her reaction was lukewarm. Both of her almost-grown children were on it and she knew enough about the tell-almost-all atmosphere of social networking sites to know that she’d probably be faced with things she’d rather not know. “And they might not want me to be there either, which would be hard to take.”

I had resisted Facebook for quite a while too, mostly since it seemed pointless for a relative introvert who had only three friends in high school and didn't go to university. My offspring were old hands at Facebooking but from my point of view, online socializing made for pretty superficial relationships. Then there’s all those privacy issues, and don’t even get me started on what a time-waster it is. Seeing my daughter absorbed in Facebook at midnight when she had an exam in the morning took all the self-control I had not to pull the plug on the internet.

But I’m not always around my children. In fact, I’m away from them more often than not, living on the other side of the ocean while they lead independent lives, working and studying, partying, snowboarding, jamming in the basement with friends. MSN has always been my communication mode of choice but instant messaging is dependent on physical availability, and I’ve spent a lot of time waiting and hoping for signs of life eight hours behind me.

And sometimes real-time chats are a bit like pulling teeth, especially with my biggest son whose tolerance for extended communication via keyboard is seriously limited. Around the two-minute mark in a conversation, he invariably needs to have an immediate shower, go to the gym or make something to eat. I got worried that we would soon be out of each other’s orbit altogether.

But when my daughter came back from Asia with hundreds of photos and uploaded the best to her Facebook page, I began to think there might be a point after all to having my own account. If we were FB friends, then I could enjoy her pictures right away without having to remind her for weeks to email me ‘just a few, please?’

So I climbed on. Within a week I had collected a whole six friends— half of whom were my own kids. I got to see the Asia pictures, and then spent some time wandering around other people’s pages. It turned out to be kind of fun – in a voyeuristic sort of way – to read the wall posts about last night’s party, the latest travel adventures or the best strategy for a better grade in that Friday morning Geomorphology class.

Pretty soon I was checking at least half a dozen times a day to see what was new and who said what to whom. Then a couple of my own kids’ childhood friends—people who had been around our dinner table countless times and whose knees I had bandaged – sent me friend invitations. I was flattered, but wasn’t that a little bit weird? Why would they want to share their stuff with a buddy’s middle-aged mom? My son told me that I was the one being weird and to just accept, already.

I got some invitations that I didn’t know what to do with from people I rarely saw and had nothing in common with. My daughter‘s advice was to just ignore them but I worried that my silence might seem rude. She rolled her eyes. Anybody who took Facebook seriously enough to be offended by a non-response was, in her view, in serious need of therapy. My sons just looked at me like they do when I really don’t get it. Wasn`t that the point of Facebook? More is better, right?

To my amazement, my octogenarian aunt joined up and asked my kids if she could be their friend too. This woman is like a second mother to me, but my children barely know her. What a windfall!! Now distance didn’t matter – they could all get to know each other and do some family bonding without waiting for a funeral or a wedding. I worried a bit about her seeing the photographic evidence of my offspring’s lifestyles – never mind the language they use sometimes – but she’s cool about most things.

“So give me a good reason!” said Kathryn. Well, because Facebook is like a virtual kitchen. It’s the place where kids and friends collect – even if briefly – and almost always leave behind a little something of themselves. Most of the time I hang around on the periphery, enjoying the humour, the smart-ass remarks and the obscure references to things I know nothing about. But more importantly, I’m also privy to nuggets of information that sometimes reveal how they view themselves and others and if life is treating them well – or not. How fun that camping trip was. How they need a new place to live at the end of the month. How great the job is. How it’s time bite the bullet and go back to school.

The kitchen is the perfect place to be an observer; it’s where you’re welcome in the lives of a younger generation as long as judgment and intrusion aren’t part of your act. My virtual kitchen allows me the contact I wouldn’t otherwise have considering how far apart we all are. An affectionate eavesdropper, I pick up littered scraps of news and conversation and drop in my own bits now and then, anticipating that somebody will have something to say in return. I’m rarely disappointed.
Actually, it’s almost as good as the real thing, although I really wish somebody would develop a decent hug application.