Panning For Gold

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.