It was a very short Facebook email from my friend, D: "How do you gather up, and keep up with, 500-odd Facebook friends?" D, by the way, is a good example of a Facebook-like friend, even if we did originally meet in person. In 1993, we both attended a small invitation-only conference with one of those dreamy titles like "The Future of the Organization." (In retrospect, it seems as if we attended a lot of those in the '90s.)
I sat down at a table, next to D, though I didn't know him at the time, and the conversation progressed. At a certain point, I made a comment about the wisdom and strength of teenagers and how we should heed their opinions more (I had two at the time). D responded with a horrible look, one I couldn't understand until the meeting was over and he turned to me to say the unthinkable: "My son was killed by a teenage drunk driver five months ago."
We sat there for the next 45 minutes as he told me the story of his beautiful and talented son, Zack, who died at 23. He had the obituaries, the newspaper articles, and, even, as I recall, some of Zack's writing in a folder that he carried with him. Finally, we parted. Shortly, I learned that D had joined The Meta Network (hi, Lisa), an online discussion forum that I'd belonged to for a while by then, and, for nearly five years following, D posted about his son and the overpowering grief that his death brought. A small group of us moved into virtual position around him, responding to posts, offering advice, and soon one of the group named us "the pod," as in dolphins who swarm around one who is ill until that mammal heals.
I only saw D once or twice after that, talking on the phone perhaps once a year - until he surfaced on Facebook a few months back, a strong, healthy, and witty presence. When he sent his email a few weeks ago, I promised to respond here...but I couldn't without telling the background.
These relationships that we form online have been minced, diced, and put through the garlic press so many times that there is little new that I can contribute. Only that these thin bonds are real and have staying power, as per reconnecting with D.
I joined Facebook when someone whom I knew in person invited me to join, someone with whom I already had a stronger connection online than face-to-face (which continues to be the case, even though we live only a few miles apart). Once I joined, I searched out people whom I thought might be on, online afficiandos, many of whom, of course, had joined before me, then friends from college, high school, and others whom I'd lost touch with, most of whom weren't members (yet). Then, to my daughters' chagrin, I "friended" some of their friends, resulting in this story much told by Daughter #1: A friend approaches her. "You'll never guess who friended me!" D#1: "Oh, yes, I can..." (Lest I be admonished for oversight, D#2 is my friend too.)
After a while, I stopped regularly searching people out and soon I started to receive "friend requests." The first and most memorable came about two months after I'd joined Facebook when, just moments after giving a speech, where I'd mentioned my early experiences, my BlackBerry (at the time) indicated a new message; someone in the audience (hello, JR) had friended me.
Over the past year, I've been "friended" (who ever thought it would be a verb?) by writers from Zoetrope.com and their friends, people who've read our books and poor students who've had them assigned, editors near and far (hi, Ian, 'lo, Eric), high school and college roommates and hallmates whom I'd lost touch with completely (hello, Sue, hello, MaryJo; hello, Alicia, hello, Pat), clients (hey, Liz, howdy, Tom), my godson (Will!), my niece (Ms. Amanda), too many Lipnacks now to list, save the famous other little cousin-JL!, and people with no connection to me that is traceable but who somehow seem to find me and ask to connect. I almost always say yes unless there is something obviously objectionable in the person's profile, which has happened once as I recall (not that I can actually recall what struck me that way at the time).
As of today, I'm up to 503 such connections, including two that came in last night - one from someone I can't remember at the moment, the other from someone whom I was on a couple of conference calls with last year (hello, Chandra). I receive all kinds of "gifts" that make no sense whatsoever, am invited to "events" that I cannot attend, and am asked to participate in groups that I stand little chance of actually being part of.
Is there a purpose to this? In the strictest sense of the word, no, but I analogize the daily "friend feed" that catalogues what people (my friends, that is) are doing to sitting on the stoop in college. There, we took our places (at least a few of us budding networkers did) and watched people coming and going from the student union, noting who was hanging out with whom, which couple was together today, which had broken up, who'd pulled up on his or her motorcyle (yes, girls in my college had bikes too), what books they were carrying, how they were dressed, whether they looked liked they'd just rolled out of bed...
So I enjoy - and learn from - this global stoop, where I can see what other bloggers are writing, what interests people are promoting, and monitor whether the wonderful game Scrabulous ever is allowed to resurface on Facebook (hello, Jude - I really miss this!). If you're not there already, come friend me so we can hang out too.
