Social Networking for (Not Quite) Seniors

I remember when our daughter was a preteen and would spend too many hours on the computer I-M-ing (instant message, for those who missed that phase) with their friends on something called My Space. It seemed relatively innocuous and Julie was even learning how to design her own Web page.

 Many years later, Facebook became interwoven with modern life, especially if a teenager lived in your house. I was curious. What could people find so interesting in such a simple and basically shallow world? Julie signed me up and showed me the ropes.

My world has not been quite the same since. For me, the unfamiliar Facebook was a lot like downtown Los Angeles; there is no there there. What was the big deal? Then I saw a familiar name logged in. After some hesitation, I contacted him. It was a dear friend from high school, someone who had remained close during the college years, but when he finally moved to Los Angeles, that was when we lost touch. It had been 30 years since we had last spoken.

Eventually, we met for dinner, bringing our spouses along to meet each other. It was a lot of fun, if not a bit strange. The common ground of having spent uncountable hours together in those crazy years between childhood and turning 25 years old provided a comfort zone.

As we exchanged tales of others from school with whom we had run into along the way, I started to see familiar names from my childhood popping up on Facebook. One would send me a friend request, I would respond, and see all of the others from—no kidding—elementary school, who were conversing. Girls from my earliest memories were reappearing and we were reconnecting. Although we had grown up in a small Chicago suburb, we were now living all over the country: one in Beverly Hills, another in Colorado, another in Manhattan, some who had remained in Chicago.

Some of these girls even staged a successful reunion last year.  Some 200 people attended a reunion of our eighth grade class. I saw the photos and am sorry I could not attend. 

A few weeks ago, I received a note from someone who had been my closest friend during those terrible early teen years. She moved in across the street from me just before junior high and for three years we were inseparable. I knew she probably lived in the L.A. area but figured she might not even remember me.

I was so wrong. It was like picking up where we left off more than 40 years ago. Talking to her on the phone was still second nature and it was a joy to hear her voice again.

There is something magical about spending time with people you have known most of your life. My very bestest friend from college and I have remained friends through the years and we recently celebrated her birthday with a very long lunch in Malibu. Despite the fact that much of our conversation centered on geezer topics like the recent deaths of our fathers and managing family estates and caring for elderly parents, when I look at her, I see the 21-year-old student who was so intelligent and sophisticated. And, in her presence, I feel like the 22-year old who was still learning her way around the freeways.

My 40^th  high school reunion is planned for this fall. It will include the entire class from our twin high schools, some 1,400 people. I hope that I can make it, but if not, I know I will remain in touch with so many of these men and women who knew me before I had the chance to pretend I was someone else.  There is a certain familiarity in that, even though going home again is all in our heads. It is a nice thought.