dog ignores jaws of death

facebook

My daughters (actually, one in particular) convinced me that I should join. open, start.....(I don't know the lingo yet) Facebook. I knew about Facebook but hadn't ventured in, believing that I was probably well beyond the age limit to participate. But not wanting to seem a Luddite or,  as we labeled it in the 60's, a "square" I started an account(hopefully this will lead to lucrative withdrawals but more likely to painful, prolonged withdrawal accompanied by hallucinations and cold sweats - not the kind James Brown referred to in his song).  Immediately, I was barraged by e-mails from people who wanted to be my "friend." The average age of these would-be friends was about 30; some of them I knew when they were my daughters' friends in grade school; some of them I had no idea who they were or how they knew me. I'm guessing the latter group are friends of my daughters who saw my recognizable last name & just perfunctorily(the length and pronunciation difficulty of that word definitely contrasts with its meaning)  decided to ask me to add them to my friends list. This made me think about comments from my daughters about their friends' parents wanting to be added to my daughters' lists. They were always telling me how weird that was.  I took their word for it. Then, an old high school friend suddenly "wrote on my wall." (See, I'm already being colonized by the technology. My native language is being replaced by Facespeak.) Hearing from him was copasetic (like cool maaan), but I also realized that all the the messages people sent or that I sent them would be out there on that wall. This didn't seem particularly liberating. I could imagine every time I "talked" (Is that what communication is called, or is it every time I "facebooked" or "walled"?), I would have to weigh the consequences of one of my daughters' (and now my son's) friends reading it. You might ask what I have to hide. Actually, enough. If I start talking to old high school or college buddies on my wall, the sordid episodes of my life between 12 & 21 will become fodder for the Facebook nation. My carefully constructed past might crumble, and my children might have to start issuing denials on their wall of any familial relationship with that crazy old guy who happens to have the same name as and look somewhat like their father. So, if you happen to be one of my children's friends, don't be offended if I don't honor your request to be befriended. As a writer, I cherish elements of my sordid past as source material, but I reserve the right to put those actions in the hands and minds of skillfully veiled personas.  When I write a poem or a blog, I'm a writer with all the writer's rights to screw with the reader. That's what makes writing fun for both sides! So you can read my wall, but be forewarned; it will be dull as my reported life can be. 

CODA: I declare that I will not enter my children's Facebook pages, so you don't have to give second thoughts to what you put up on your walls.

3 photos/click to enlarge