Social media has become, in many ways, a sewer of hatred,
jealousy, bullying, misinformation, and disinformation. Everyone who used to be
an “expert” on contagious diseases and vaccines is now an “expert” on
international relations and military strategy.
But social media doesn’t have to be such a cesspool if you
can train yourself to ignore the negativity and baiting and political crap.
Case on point: the photo above. That’s me, and my neighbor Kay, feeding and
petting the tame deer that everybody called “Lucy.” Lucy lived in the woods at
the end of our back yards. Kay’s dad took the photo. I think it was 1953, which
would make me (and Kay) 4 years old.
I’ve often said I grew up in a Tom Sawyer-like environment,
in a small Wisconsin village, with pine forests, a lake, streams, sledding
hills, sandlot baseball diamonds, and lots of wonderful playmates like Kay. In
our neighborhood, it was pretty much a group of four kids who hung out together
when I was a preschooler. Kay was the only girl. Rick and Robbie were the two
other guys, neighbors on the other side of Kay’s house.
When we started elementary school, Kay and I went to
different schools. As a Catholic, I went to what the non-Catholics called
“sister school,” because our teachers were nuns. But Kay and I still played together
after school and all summer. Before long, my sister Lynn, four years my junior,
joined the group. Kay and I took piano lessons from our neighbor a few houses
down the street, Mrs. Kuhn. We even played a duet together at Mrs. Kuhn’s
recital for her piano students.
Kay’s dad was a Renaissance man, skilled in a wide variety
of disciplines, including music. Her dad had played sax with some of the most
famous bands in the region, and when we were in high school, her dad put together
a small neighborhood combo that rehearsed and performed in their big living
room. At that point, my family had moved to a bigger house on the other end of
town, but Kay and I were still friends.
Here’s our high school band, marching down Main Street in the 1965 Homecoming parade. I’m the guy with the big gold Sousaphone toward the center of the photo, and Kay is somewhere in the ranks, in the flute section.
By this time, although Kay and I were in high school band
together, we travelled in different circles of friends. We went to the same college for our undergrad
work, but I can recall only one time that our paths crossed on campus. By the
time I was in my third year of undergrad, I’d completely lost track of Kay. Our
lives were headed in different directions. I hadn’t seen or communicated with
her in five decades.
Enter Facebook.
While surfing through the posts one day, I stopped to read a
new post in the “You’re Probably From…” Facebook page dedicated to the history
of my small hometown. While reading the comments, I noticed one that made me
wonder: was this my childhood friend and playmate, with whom I hadn’t had
contact in 50 years?
Different surname, but a few clicks later I knew it was the
married name of my long-lost friend. Soon we became Facebook friends and
exchanged a series of emails, catching up on five decades. Kay was a retired
teacher, widowed (at far too young an age), now living in the Pacific Northwest
near her son. We marveled about how two
kids from a small village in Wisconsin wound up on opposite ends of the nation,
to be close to family and grandkids in our golden years.
Social media is a powerful force, with the potential to
create either division or unity. To me, social media is often like panning for
gold. A lot of the stuff is meaningless or worse. But there are flashes of gold
– like reconnecting with a childhood playmate.
