Yo, yo, yo. Yick-Nan* is in the hizzy. The baby is sleeping, the other boy is spending quality time with his grandparents, and the coffee is hot and good. How you like me now???
I've been swimming in a sea of nostalgia, thanks to Facebook. Facebook turned five years old this week, and the guy who created it is a gazillionare. I have to accept the fact that people born in the eighties are adults now, too. It's entirely possible to be born during the Reagan Administration AND be successful. My brother-in-law would argue that they are successful BECAUSE of the Reagan "Revolution," as he insists on calling it. I'm choosing not to argue this point, because the point I am trying to make is this: the 24-year old Facebook Gazillionare, Mark Zuckerberg, deserves every penny. Facebook is rad.
It all started innocently enough. Brother Tom opened an account with pictures of his band. I got an account just to look at his pictures. This was back in April. I basically ignored my page until August. Joel had been at Hopkins, and the computer was my lifeline. Each day, after spending time with Owen and my parents (after seeing Joel at the hospital), I would go to the computer to read the emails (well-wishes and prayers) and to update interested parties regarding Joel's progress. It saved me, partially because I wrote to make sense of it all.
Joel got better, and one day, I opened up my Facebook page and wrote, "My younger son is eleven days old." Then, I started friending people. Then, I started doing a daily status updates. You know where this is heading, because it's the same story for most people. I became addicted.
Now, I check my page at least three times a day. Thanks to a click of the mouse, I've reconnected with my entire past. It's a party where all the groups meet and mingle, but without the awkwardness. Youth group friends chit-chat with friends from Tucson. College friends and playgroup friends seamlessly blend together into the category of "my peeps."
Last night, instead of sleeping, I talked to two of my old roommates from NAU, and we were the exact same people---just a little wiser, and more prone to talking about "the good ol' days." It was an intimacy that doesn't translate as well in occasional phone calls or annual Christmas newsletters.
Just like that, we're close friends again. So, thank you Mark Zuckerberg, you rich Harvard dropout, for expanding my world and bringing my friends back.
Even though you're just a young whippersnapper.
*Yick-Nan is my Klingon name. Yes, I determined my Kingon name my freshman year of college. It was a late night. Wanna play? Say your name backwards. For example, my sons' Klingon Names are Ne-wo and Le-oj. Those actually sound like Ewok names, but, if said in a gruff Klingon voice, they are quite menacing. OK, my dork card is FULL for this post.