Facebook Friends (and Enemies)

I find that Facebook brings connectedness into my life, some of it amusing, some of it banal, and some of it even painful. People I’ve known recently use it to send endless quizzes to me—“What Color Crayon Are You”? “What Nationality Are You”? etc. However, people from my past have popped up—even some from Denison Junior High; others from Winter Haven High School or Stetson University.

First of all, there haven’t been THAT many….a fact which forces me to examine what I’ve always known is true, but hate to admit. In the past, I didn’t trust people that much….so I often know people only superficially, even if externally I sometimes seen sincere. I do have a few heartfelt friends, but they’re not the virtual kind. Then I’m surprised by the people who “befriend” me, but that I can’t remember. Now I wish I had kept those slightly moldy high school and college yearbooks. It’s hard to keep up virtual conversations with people I hardly recall—or can’t remember at all. This memory loss is mostly reflective of my attempts to survive high school and college emotionally intact, despite a chaotic family situation.

But what’s most haunting about Facebook for me is the “what if” factor. I finished at the top of my class—studying was an escape from reality. And while I enjoy what I do, I don’t cure cancer—I never wrote the great American novel. By avoiding high school reunions, my classmates didn’t have to see that I achieved only modest accomplishments. But Facebook nakedly exposes me in just a few descriptive phrases. I find this most unsettling, perhaps because I’m also at middle age—that time when one looks back on what s/he didn’t do….and looks ahead to see if s/he can muster the energy or the courage to leave some kind of a lasting mark on the world.

Perhaps what’s especially painful about Facebook is how far from “normal”my life has been in many ways. Growing up with two mentally unstable parents meant that junior and senior high were mostly years of survival. Yes, I joined a couple of clubs and certainly did well academically (studying was my escape from a lot of pain), but I forged few close friendships. College was also harrowing at times—trying to overcome years of toxic family relationships, plus cope with the suicide of a college roommate.

While I married, we never had children. In fact, I’ve never even changed a diaper. (My sister has never married). So I look at the Facebook postings and read about people who take for granted that everyone gets their kids ready for school, takes them to the pool in the summer time, etc. And there are the people who mention visiting their parents and other family members and apparently having a wonderful time. About 15 years ago, my mother loaded all of the gifts we’d ever given her, plus our baby photos, school awards, etc., and left them with my uncle, requesting that we only send her a Christmas card. She doesn’t speak to her other family members, either. In fact, my mother’s side of the family split over an inheritance, so we’ve never had a family reunion with this side of the family. I’m beginning to doubt we’ll ever have a family reunion on the other side of the family, either, and it shrinks year by year from the inevitable march of old age.

I suppose Facebook is appropriately named. It has made me face the past while I’m entering the middle years, even though most of the postings involve the present. I can only hope that as I face the future, I’ll accept my less than “normal” life with better equanimity or at least indifference.

Health Care vs. Scare Tactics

It looks like Obama’s national health care proposal will end up being hijacked by the insurance companies and other vested interests yet again. How unfortunate that exaggerations persuade so many people—of course, I’m sure money is quite eloquent, also.

If only people would ask Canadians, Japanese, etc. about their health care systems. I remember having an introduction to health class at the University of Illinois as a graduate student (part of teacher certification). The instructor stated that national health care simply didn’t work and cited England as an example. I raised my hand, pointed out that I had lived in Japan for two years and had never had better health care. This is quite true—I had shorter waits, more choice and fewer co-pays than at any other time in my life.

A few months ago, a friend forwarded an alleged letter from a Canadian couple that had been e-mailed to her. Supposed complaints about the Canadian health care filled the letter, which quite honestly didn’t sound “Canadian” in word choice/tone. (I’m married to a Canadian, so I can usually detect the differences). My friend asked about the letter’s accuracy. I noted that my husband’s relatives, who live in Alberta, have rarely if ever complained about their health care. In fact, they usually refuse to travel in the U.S., for fear of having to use the American health care system in an emergency and thus being out of a lot of money. I also observed that while my husband and I drive fairly old vehicles and live in a modest if adequate ranch house, several of his relatives drive huge, new vehicles, live in large, newer houses, and even have a summer vacation cottage.

While any health care system has its weaknesses, I believe that the “American way” is the worst, at least among industrialized nations. We spend the most, receive the least—and to our shame, have many uninsured individuals. Health care is a basic right—along with life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Summertime

When I was a little girl, there was no such thing as video games. But there was TV—but we didn’t watch it very much. Mom encouraged us to play outside and we usually obliged her. With the next door neighbor girls Cheryl and Cheyle, we’d play pioneers. We’d wind our way back and forth through our spacious backyards, hoping to reach California. Red wagons and baby dolls accompanied us on our adventure-filled treks.

During high school, I worked part-time jobs at about every fast food chain you could name. But I still found time to read, write, draw and cram for standardized tests. I remember trying to memorize lists of vocabulary words and trying to figure out word problems. We lived in a rural area, so I didn’t socialize very often, although my friend Rhonda lived down the road and we’d get together periodically.

In my twenties, I spent too much time in graduate school, which meant I worked summers to pay my rent. But in my thirties and forties, I’d held full-time jobs, so the reward to myself is taking the summers off. De-cluttering and cleaning the house always remain top priorities. I read, albeit more magazines and mystery novels than classics. Some travel—seeing old friends…. Probably wasting more time than I should admit.

This summer has been different than most. It’s been filled with losses….. My trivia team unexpectedly dropped me from the team—I was the best player, but they felt too “negative” or something like that. Then my secretary at work transferred to another school….and never told me. Tragically, our school receptionist was murdered, leaving her friends and co-workers alternately stunned, angry and saddened.

I’ve tried hard to maintain a routine….contact others, keep exercising and eating right, reading magazines, keeping up on Rosetta Stone. And I’m starting to feel a bit more like it’s summer. I went to a friend’s cookout and caught up with a college buddy. My husband and I even went to see what’s left of the Beach Boys at a local festival this past Sunday night. But I must confess—this is one summer that will always be bittersweet in my memory.