Social Media 101 (she said sarcastically)
It’s 11pm and my cousin sends out a tweet about these kids, these high school kids. The snow’s coming hard and they’ve been in an accident and two of them are dead and we should keep them in our thoughts. My heart is very literal (whether I like it or not) and so I stuff my thoughts full to bursting immediately. I click the links to the two Twitter profiles she’s talking about, and I click link after link after that, and before I know it I’m following this horrific breadcrumb trail through tar-black woods until I’m boiling in some sad witch’s stew and I’m an onion, an onion bobbing and drowning in the broth, losing my layers one by one as the heat rises, as my heart expands. I feel split clean apart over a handful of teenagers I don’t even know. Because I’m seeing it unfold, play out in real time, their horror, their disbelief, their anger, their grief, and, for three of them, now, their last words. And they are real lives, extinguished. And they are baffled friends, in sudden mourning. And I am a 34-year-old Wisconsin housewife, a stranger to them all, huddled up to my iPhone in bed on a frigid, wicked night. Privy to their shattering.
***
“This is why the Internet is bad,” my husband says for the 200th time this year. “You know too many people. You love them all. You used to have a normal amount of friends.” It’s a couple weeks ago now, the day after A’s stroke, and I’m ruining our date night by slumping too low in my booth, by fiddling around on Twitter for updates, by ignoring him completely. “So what are you saying?” I shoot back at him, trying not to hiss. “That I’d be better off if I didn’t know her? That I’d be happier with fewer friends? With less love? That it’s not worth it?” He answers only with a shrug and silence, and I poke around inside it for a while trying to finger out his answer, before giving up and diving back inside my phone.
***
Last week now, at lunch with my friends over Thanksgiving break, and the talk turns to gossip about a prominent civil servant in our too-small town. One by one we speculate, what we’ve heard, what it means, who said what, and my best friend’s husband, a city boy, turns to me then and says under his breath, “This is my worst nightmare.” And he means this, this, a table full of strangers dissecting another person’s life like a trapped lab frog, high school style. I nod in agreement, say, “Mine, too.” But, at the same time, that’s basically my life, that’s your life now, too, to varying degrees across this bold, new spectrum. If you are here, reading a blog, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You are connected, tuned in, eavesdropping, sharing. You are invested in my life, maybe just a little bit, maybe a whole lot, and I can probably say the same about you. We ache for connection and we love a good train wreck, whether we realize it or not, admit to it or not. When something terrible happens to one of us we can’t help it, we immediately start cataloging our shared experiences, look for ways we are strung together, end up, unfortunately, piggybacking on the pain. It’s normal, or at least, our new normal, with this ridiculous amount of information at our hungry fingertips. We don’t mean any harm, and we try to do good deeds with it, but it is what it is. At least we know it, mostly. We are adults.
What fascinates me, though, is the kids. The kids don’t know it yet. The history books analyzing and quantifying social media’s impact have not yet been written, and our kids are living it in real time. It’s so much more complicated than an unseemly Google trail. It is seeing terrible things written about yourself on Facebook and buckling quietly under the blow. It is a stolen first kiss, captured by a “friend” on camera phone and text-blasted to the world. It is speaking without thinking, it is poorly-chosen words and decisions forever enshrined, and it is this, this raw grieving, this public keening, this spraying of gun-blasted soul pieces all over the world wide web for nosy, well-meaning mother strangers to dissect and blog about and obsess over on this, the first real snow of winter.
I could care less about Search Engine Optimization. I could care less about a bullet point rundown on social media, on how to do it right, on the best way to trick traffic, on all the ways I do things wrong here on this site. I’m far more interested in what it all means, in how to steer my daughters through, on what it’s doing to our collective consciousness to bear these connections, to bare these truths, to stand here, exposed, hands outstretched.
Her Bad Mother says:
“I’m far more interested in what it all means, in how to steer my daughters through, on what it’s doing to our collective consciousness to bear these connections, to bare these truths, to stand here, exposed, hands outstretched.”
Yes. This, exactly. Exactly.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:49 pm
Angi says:
I love what you’ve written here. It’s a struggle I have. i love the interactions I have with people on the internet…but I want my kids to live “unconnected” as long as they possibly can.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:50 pm
Boy Crazy (@claritychaos) says:
My friend and I were just talking about this, about stupid things we did as teenagers and how if that were now, there would be a picture of it plastered all over facebook. I think how difficult impulse control is for so many of us who tweet and blog even though we are rational (mostly) adults. But teens? Or even younger kids? It scares the crap out of me. I might just have to move my kids to an Amish commune before they learn to type.
And for all the chaos and mental crud that social media creates, I’m glad for the coffee dates that come of it. xo
December 4th, 2009 at 1:52 pm
Kat says:
Yeah…this is why I don’t mind being under 100 followers on Twitter, why I don’t follow 100s or 1000s, and why I don’t blog that much anymore. Everything isn’t for public consumption, but it’s SO tempting to put it all out there. The get the response from all over the country, the world…so tempting.
I love that I’ve found new friends through my blog and Twitter, but I have to keep it down to a realistic level. And I’ve basically stopped Twittering in the car when my husband is driving, in the restaurant while we’re out together…he hates it. And I don’t need to be that connected all the time. But it’s hard to resist at times because I do feel like I’m part of a community, and I like to know what’s going on with my people.
maggie, dammit Reply:
December 4th, 2009 at 1:56 pm
But that’s the thing–these kids only have 30 or 40 followers. They are not social media mavens. They are just kids, connecting with their friends, publicly. I’m sure it would never occur to them in a million years that some strange lady is poring over their tweets. It’s just so strange to think about, you know?
Kat Reply:
December 4th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
Yes, it is. I don’t know that it’s a good thing, that we all have so much access. Maybe our kids need a course on protecting yourself in the social media arena.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:52 pm
Becky says:
Wow. Very well said. It’s so true. I became involved in A because of all of you. I don’t know her from before but now I’m caring and praying and reading…
In that way, this is all so good.
maggie, dammit Reply:
December 4th, 2009 at 1:57 pm
Yes, there are absolutely good things. The support is real and powerful, I could name a hundred examples. I don’t mean to take away from that at all.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:53 pm
magpie says:
Fascinating. And yes.
December 4th, 2009 at 1:58 pm
Hemptress December says:
My dear, Ive run across your site many times, but this absolutely gripped me. I walk the fine line as well, when I find that line has crept over and slid in to bed with me, i have to shake myself back into reality. Thank you for writing this.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:04 pm
Amber says:
Social media is such a mixed bag. It can be so good and so bad. I’m still just trying to figure it out myself, and I know that my kids will one day vastly outstrip me. I just wish I knew how to prepare them for that day.
maggie, dammit Reply:
December 4th, 2009 at 2:16 pm
Yes, I think that sums up my angst right there. It’s one of the few things there’s no precedent for, so it’s hard as a parent to make the right moves.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:13 pm
Nicole says:
It’s like everything else in life: For any GOOD use of something, SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE will find a way to pervert it for BAD. About the best you can do is try to drill that into your kids, ensure they know they difference and hope they do the right thing.
To your other point though, connection is a part of our deepest human needs. If we weren’t finding ways to communicate “virtually,” we’d just find another way to do it – or not. And boy, we’d miss out on a lot!
December 4th, 2009 at 2:17 pm
Titanium says:
That’s the basic yin and yang of life: there is both good and bad in all things.
If each person takes accountability for their own actions, including how they utilize the readily-available social media toolbox, balance is achieved.
That said, there is no substitute for setting it all aside for an hour or a day in favor of giving undivided attention, in the here and now, to those we truly know and love.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:47 pm
laprimera says:
What you’ve said is one of the many reasons I’m thankful to be a part of this connection. Knowing about blogs and twitter and facebook and whatever else comes next. It was confusing and scary enough being a teen in the 80′s. I can’t imagine what it will be like for my girls. The more I know the better.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:53 pm
thordora says:
I’m…torn.
My dissolving marriage was irrevocably altered and wounded by the fact that he would constantly sit in booths, checking texts and updates from the latest girl in crisis. Slightly different yes, but the fact remains that his connections online kept him detached from those outside. Did he run to them willingly or slowly became wrapped up? I don’t know. But I do know that I am very wary of too much connection to people online. Because I’ve watched my life unravel because of it.
And personally-I have trouble having more than a simple, “oh, how sad” for those I haven’t directly met. So I don’t get caught up. And I want to teach my girls that difference-because the world around us, the people we can touch, they are here and matter. And that connection should come first.
But I’m a little touchy about this anyway.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:57 pm
pgoodness says:
It’s a whole different world, being this connected. It has it’s ups and downs, but mostly, I think it’s good. It certainly changes how we raise our children…if WE are this connected, I can only imagine how things will be for them by the time they reach our age.
As always, wonderfully written and thought-provoking, Maggie.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:57 pm
Yo is Me says:
totally.
i’m trying to make my nephew more aware. the things he texts, the pictures, videos that the thinks are so funny… they are someone’s life.
it’s hard because of all of it… the media, the games, the internet, their friends… we can control it to a degree, but they’re going to find things, they’re going to look, they’re going to pry because that is curiosity and growth.
i think about our blogs, our phones, our emails we read in bed… all this information that is available NOW… and that it used to take days or even weeks for one letter to arrive.
what will it be like tomorrow?
December 4th, 2009 at 3:06 pm
Mojo,NC,USA says:
Well I for one cannot imagine living in a world where my blog and your blog didn’t come together and make mad sweaty blog love resulting in little bloglets that do Really.Good.Things.
One guest post by someone I know, leading to an offhand (if true) remark about a comment on that post from someone I didn’t know, which evolved into a conversation in the comment section of a blog I never read before. And before I know it I’ve discovered the kid sister I should have had. For that reason alone, I will happily deal with whatever sludge comes with the territory.
But I have a theory about the specific example you opened with. Yes, you felt a connection to those kids in that car. And yes, you found out about it via some arcane social networking tool that I have — so far — managed to avoid. But that was just the vehicle for the information. You would have ached just as deeply if you’d seen it on the evening news or read it in the morning paper. Because you feel Maggie, more deeply than perhaps anyone I know. And because of your own history, your own experiences, perhaps you feel this one even more sharply.
And none of that has any connection to Twitter. Or Facebook or whatever. That’s just Maggie, the dear, empathic Maggie we know and love. The Maggie I’d never have known without the benefit of blogging/networking. I’ll take that deal any time.
But having your awkward-enough first kiss broadcast to the world because someone with a camera phone was close by? I’ll admit it’s different in some pretty significant ways form having that photo tacked to the bulletin board right under the Prom Committee notes and just to the left of the football tryout results. But social networking didn’t begin with the internet. Kids have always had ways of being shitty to other kids, and there have always been the misfits and the popular kids. There’s nothing new about that either. The only thing new is the speed and ruthless efficiency with which the Mean Girls can weaponize their … meanness.
So what do you teach the Maglets? The same things you learned as you grew up. Some people suck, and they’ll try to suck you down with them. Some people will try to make themselves bigger by making those around them smaller. And it may work for a while, but sooner or later they’re going to be outed for the mean-spirited bitter people they are. You can’t change them, you can only define how you respond to them.
And that’s true even in Amish country.
Much love to you mah sista.
December 4th, 2009 at 3:10 pm
SPM says:
You are such a good person, you know. And sometimes D is right abt when he says what e says. And sometimes I worry abt you spreading yourself too thin, giving away so much you don’t have any left to fight the winter (and I say that because I know you will be able to read between these lines).
But I also know that the amazing thing abt loving and caring is that it expands the more you feel it, and the more you give it away. And beyond that? If you’re an onion, you’re an onion (you are an onion, we know this), and there probably isn’t much you can do, so own it, and don’t think so hard abt things that aren’t wrong with you to begin with.
December 4th, 2009 at 3:19 pm
Gwen Bell says:
I started to worry, seriously, when I heard about dark rooms. At parties. Where you go take your shot of whatever but you have to leave your mobile device at the door. And the room is black so that if someone _did_ sneak in a device, they wouldn’t get a good photo.
The lengths we’ll go to to escape social media’s reach.
December 4th, 2009 at 4:11 pm
Dory says:
I am so blessed to know you.
December 4th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
Aidan Donnelley Rowley says:
Brilliant.
I think about this. And often. I am a relatively new blogger. And my baby blog is growing, meeting those maddening milestones. Fine.
But what I care about is that my little sister is documenting her college life online. What I care about? That I have two tiny girls at home. Ensconsed in a world of love, but already embedded in a social media society. How will these things, these gadgets, this butcher and broadcast way of thinking affect them, who they become, how they think, what they think about?
This post? It baffles me and scares me. In a good way. A very good way.
December 4th, 2009 at 5:03 pm
Corinne says:
While I love reaping the benefits of social media now, I’d hate to imagine what it would be like to be a teenager with it. I absolutely dread the day my kids want to use the computer, when they ask for email accounts and whatnot… scares the crap out of me.
Great post lady. Really.
December 4th, 2009 at 5:46 pm
racheld says:
In a long-ago television show—one of those “theater of the week” things which presented a separate hour-long drama every Tuesday night, a character who was a nun was asked about her life.
She replied that all lives consist of Preparation, Meditation, and Dedication, especially those of religious orders, and those of parents.
And it seems to me that possibly a parent’s Meditation may consist of long nights on their knees, or of nothing more than a whispered prayer or mantra or gasp of amazement squeezed in whilst waiting for the drop-off line to move forward in the morning. But the Dedication and the Preparation (ours and the so-important THEIRS) last for always.
December 4th, 2009 at 7:07 pm
Tweets that mention Okay, Fine, Dammit » “Social Media 101,” she said sarcastically. -- Topsy.com says:
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by MaggieDammit, Brad Tayloe. Brad Tayloe said: RT @JessicaNorthey: Okay, Fine, Dammit » Social Media 101 (she said sarcastically) http://bit.ly/6qHrS0 [...]
December 4th, 2009 at 7:35 pm
sweetsalty kate says:
Gwen’s description of dark rooms made me kind of randy.
December 4th, 2009 at 8:49 pm
sweetsalty kate says:
And now for the actual thinking person’s response.. I was a train wreck but 2 1/2 years ago, social media was social media 1.0. If even that. I don’t know how I feel about it now. A bit squirmy, to be truthful. I’m still trying to figure out why.
I’m a closeted neanderthal. A vegetarian neanderthal. I’m sure that’s all it is. I’m comfortable in the dark.
Still randy.
December 4th, 2009 at 8:58 pm
Erika says:
Dude. That you wrote this on the day I decided to become one of the last people to jump aboard the Twitter train…I’m just sayin’.
This prompted me to go back and read a paper I wrote in 1999 for a social psych class: “Face To Screen: The
Effects of Email Communication on the Social Construction of Self”. Just email! And here we are ten years later and all 6 of my teenage cousins spent the entirety of Thanksgiving dinner hunched over their handhelds. What I can’t wrap my head around is the fact that each one of them has over 400 Facebook friends. I don’t think I’ve had half as many real friends in my life!
P.S. Totally jealous of your iPhone.
December 4th, 2009 at 9:51 pm
anymommy says:
I know this is your simplest point and I am missing the larger questions, but sometimes I think I know to many people for this blog/twitter/social thing. I love too many people. I’m invested in them. I can’t take the higher odds of pain. But, what’s the point of standing outside the fire?
December 4th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
Trish says:
It’s a struggle I have too and my husband dislikes my internet connection addiction.
I have to check up on people I care about too…even on holidays.
I follow stories much you describe and I mourn the collective losses and dramas.
I love the connections and conversations with my friends/strange people on the internet…but I too want my kids to live “unconnected” as long as they possibly can.
I am shocked what my teen will tell others but not what I do.
I will probably stopped posting pictures of my littles once they start to complain.
December 4th, 2009 at 10:41 pm
@KRCRAFT says:
Thanks for this. I think it is the most REAL article I have read this week.
I am both awed, and moved, by your ability to capture the side of SM that we don’t discuss often enough when it comes to ‘transparency’. We’re not just professionals glued to the channels to increase our career knowledge. We’re also parents, siblings, friends, (virtual &/or real) who share common emotions.
You captured many aspects of the struggles between professional vs. (and?) personal SM, plus the challenge as parents to guide kids through the SM quagmire. Isn’t it fascinating that having the, ‘You really should think about removing those pictures from that FaceBook album before applying for intern jobs,’ is right up there now in importance as the proverbial ‘to little, too late,’ sex talk was way back when?
After reading this post I have a hunch your Girls will turn out just fine. You’re savvy, recognize real priorities and you Grok the issues fully.
December 4th, 2009 at 11:22 pm
moonspun says:
Wow. I Facebook, but not Twitter and there is a mixed blessing in being connected for us all….the way you articulate the issues is quite powerful.
December 5th, 2009 at 5:52 am
IB says:
I guess what fascinates me about social media is this: When desk-tops and the internet came along, I assumed it would dehumanize us; make us slaves to the machine; isolate us. But people found a way to use the technology as a tool to connect. The rapid growth of social sites and blogging and twittering, etc. goes to show we are looking to connect any way we can. Do I think technology and social media has the power to undermine normal “real” relationships? I don’t think so. If anything my encounters on-line have created in me a habit of expressing myself which has spilled over into my daily experiences with friends and family. I see it as a good thing.
December 5th, 2009 at 9:19 am
Liz says:
Disclaimer: I am not a parent. But that said, I have very good parents. From the time I started talking to friends on the phone (way before cell phones and the internet, when we only had 1 phone line, and no phone in my room), say age 8 or 9, my parents instituted a rule. I had a 10 minute time limit on the phone. No more. This remained until my high school boyfriend and I got together, at which time I was allowed 30 minutes, and I could never, never call him. I could return a call if he called while I was busy with something, but I couldn’t initiate. (That might be a bit strict, and possibly why I find it nearly impossible to ask a man out myself now . . . ) I chafed against it as an adolescent, but I think the idea was sound. It’s hard to get caught up in the round-robin of phone gossip about who said what and who kissed whom and who do we love/hate/envy today when all you get is 10 minutes. Maybe kids should have to charge their phones in the kitchen when they go to bed at night, no laptops in their rooms much like my parents never allowed phones or televisions in my and my siblings bedrooms. It’s hard, I imagine, and it’s bound to make your kids swear you’re some strange combination between the Stasi and the Luddites, but maybe drastic measures are what’s required. I don’t know . . .
December 5th, 2009 at 9:56 am
Heather of the EO says:
I suppose it’s all about boundaries and moderation. But those are terribly difficult things to find when social media holds absolutely no boundaries or moderation.
I think about this a lot. I’ve cared (and care) so deeply for people I’ve never met who are suffering. I become entrenched with my heart involved and raise money and spread the word….then my husband says the exact same thing yours does.
And as for the future, with my boys…It’s an impossible thing, finding balance in something that has no center, no concrete…point, I guess. Its use is unique to each person, so there is so much room for getting too engrossed, getting hurt, sharing too much, taking in too much…. Ugh, I don’t know…I kind of wish it would go away before my boys grow. But then again, I’d miss it (and the people in it)
I’ll stop rambling now.
December 5th, 2009 at 2:19 pm
Rachael says:
You put it really well. After Maddie Spohr died, I mentioned to my Mom something about how I’d been reading posts about her all day the day before and been crying. She didn’t understand, and questioned whether it was healthy for me to be reading those things and upsetting myself. And I couldn’t explain that most of the tears were tears of amazement at the support people offer each other, and the way people lift each other up. The prayers we can give to people who need them when we have them to spare. I think it’s amazing.
December 5th, 2009 at 8:55 pm
fancy feet says:
I don’t do Twitter or Facebook and not for any great reason other than I’m the ultimate space girl. I’m not knocking it. I might try it one of these days, but I crave my space so much that I don’t know if I can give up more of it because it already feels like I’m crowded, you know?
Or maybe I’m full of it. I’ve got my blog and I love the connections I’ve made through it. The thing for me there is that I can control it more and I don’t have old high school acquaintances contacting me. I kinda hate that sort of thing.
As for my kids and the internet….I’m dreading it. Absolutely dreading it. But I’ll talk them through it and talk myself off of a ledge for as long as I have to.
Oh, one more thing. This was gorgeously written.
December 5th, 2009 at 9:45 pm
Karen MEG says:
I’m very rarely on FB or twitter anymore. But you’re exactly, exactly right here, my friend.
And we just got my 9 yo an iTouch for Christmas. Do not ask me why. He is an uber-responsible 9 yo…but he is still only 9.
Give me strength.
December 6th, 2009 at 7:33 am
deb says:
I physically lean forward to get closer to your words on the screen, like the kind that need to be held in hand. Thank you , Maggie.
I agree with fancy feet’s comment above, I blog to write and connect , slowly, with much trepidation. I have 5 kids 11-20 and helping them navigate all of this has had its ups and downs, but in reality they approach it like most of the other things we stumble through. With our kind of strict and protective parenting, and open honest discussions. okay and a little lurking just to let them know in the beginning that I could and might.
Honestly they have demonstrated more discernment and sensibility than I would have at their ages.
My real time life always comes first, and I expect theirs to as well. And my husband is high on the management scale at work and doesn’t bring his blackberry to soccer practice etc. Honestly, I don’t think a few minutes here and there will amount to a critical difference.
But these threads of love and care and hope that are weaving us all together with technology ~~ it’s a blessing more than a curse. Hands down. And thumbs down sometimes , too
December 6th, 2009 at 10:16 am
Gwen says:
The half good news is that there’s a whole phalanx of educators writing and thinking and talking about this very problem–how to protect kids from their own lack of brain development vis a vis social media.
I’m interested, too, in how it impacts the way we define relationship. Because it’s actually pretty easy to be virtual friends with someone. You can care, but with little actual impact on your daily life. A sympathetic e-mail takes far less energy and time than a batch of homemade cookies. Or a drive through the snow on a cold night to offer comfort. You can jump in, both feet, and jump out just as easily when things get weird or icky or you discover your internet friend or group or community isn’t actually perfection personified, after all. And what habits that we learn here, in this space, do we carry with us, into our physical spaces?
December 6th, 2009 at 10:31 am
Deb J. Jones says:
Insightful, lovely, very Sharon Olds-y take on a modern subject.
December 6th, 2009 at 3:33 pm
tracey says:
I often wonder at how my children will view what life was like for the generations that WEREN’T connected. “How did they cope? What did they DO if they had a question for someone at 2 am?!?” And then I get scared at the possibilities of technology progressing as much in the next 10 years as it has in the past 10 years. And then I stop thinking and just try to enjoy the day because it’s too big and too much and I can’t stop the train, anyway. Might as well enjoy the scenery outside the window…
December 6th, 2009 at 7:20 pm
Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo says:
Wonderful what you have written here. But then again I always say that.
The thing I struggle with is I WANT to share everything with my friends on the internet. I want to talk about things that are private and personal and then I go and discover some freaky google searches or notice that hundreds of faceless people are reading what I write and I have to step back. And not share. And keep it to myself. Cause I don’t want what I say to come back and bite me, or worse my children, in the future.
And it sucks because, although we will never meet, I feel a connection with you (and others) and save making my blog and twitter private, I have to hold back.
December 7th, 2009 at 12:23 am
Elisa says:
I consider myself so incredibly lucky to have all my (as I refer to them) bloggy friends!!
At a time when there is lots of change, and I’m feeling unsettled and a bit depressed, I would also feel incredibly lonely if I didn’t have all my peeps and tweeps posting on my blog, sending me tweets, letting me know they are still there, I didn’t drop off the face of the Earth, I still matter to them.
I thank my lucky stars for my “social media” family every day.
December 7th, 2009 at 2:08 am
Postmarc says:
Dammit, each of these three sections could have been a strong standalone post–God, you’re good.
I guess I am happy to be invested in your life in this odd little blog-way, because you have a knack for choosing what you share very, very carefully. Posts like this are exactly why. You don’t wring your hands and say the equivalent of ‘something must be done.’ You have captured the fear and attraction of SM technology and the effect is has on all of us, including our offspring.
Turning things off is always a choice. We just need to teach that to the munchkins and remind ourselves of it now and then.
December 7th, 2009 at 8:17 am
Merrilymarylee says:
I treasure the notes from my blog friends. It has been interesting to realize that strength, encouragement, friendship, and learning can spill forth from people I’ve never physically met. Some I simply find interesting, some I wish lived next door.
I use their recipes, admire their pets, learn their gardening tips, take their book recommendations, laugh–and cry–at their stories, envy their crafting, sewing, knitting, bird identification skills, travel via their photographs, and try to return the favors whenever I can.
December 7th, 2009 at 11:04 am
Coco says:
I worry about the effects of all this connectivity on kids, because kids are so often cruel to one another in such a vicious manner as they learn to navigate emotions, friendships, relationships. It was bad when it was just our school, our classroom, our hometown…now, it’s every school in town, every classroom, every second cousin of our kids’ tormentors who knows the ins and outs of the growing pains that they stumble over.
That being said, when I reached out my own hands just recently, the response I got overwhelmed me in its acceptance and love. Including you, dear Maggie, so while I may be wary of the pitfalls, I still seek the comfort and the light of this virtual community.
December 7th, 2009 at 12:39 pm
Melissa says:
The conversation with your husband struck me. It took Steve a long time to understand, but now he does. It’s simply that for my own sanity, and for the sake of staying connected with the world in front of me, I need to never slide back into the pool I was in, hundreds of voices around me, hundreds of obligations and emotions. It’s not that I don’t want all the love in my life, but… well, as you know, a balance really does need to be had. Finding it is the tricky part.
December 8th, 2009 at 8:31 pm
mamie says:
so connected and yet not, that is what makes all of this so very interesting, real but not, here but gone if off my reader…
i look at my 2.5 year old twins boys and wonder how it will go, how will they relate to the world of communication and interaction…
beautiful post. but next time leave the phone at home on date night, right?
December 13th, 2009 at 11:48 pm
tysdaddy says:
I was considering writing about this very thing today, but now I can’t, for I can’t do it justice in light of this. So? I’m sharing it.
Maggie, you nail it yet again, my friend.
P.S. Me and the family MIGHT be coming through your town the week after Christmas. Wanna hit up a playland and drink coffee?
December 17th, 2009 at 8:51 am