In a move sure to freak out my children, I joined Facebook the other night.
I was eating alone on a Friday night, reading the latest issue of Time magazine and a story about how many people older than 30 are joining the Facebook family.
I am older than 30.
After I did my dishes, I walked over to the computer and punched up Facebook. I joined because, frankly, I wanted to see what I was missing. My kids are both on Facebook, but I didn't join so I could keep track of them. In fact, I've decided not to ask them to be my "friends," a formal designation in the Facebook world.
If you are friends with someone on Facebook, they can see your Facebook page and you can see theirs. I don't want my kids to think I'm snooping.
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I spent a few minutes developing my Facebook "profile," which can be as cursory or as detailed as you want it to be. Then I went about the business of creating my network of "friends." Facebook makes this easy, tossing onto the screen a list of folks with whom the Facebook wizard thinks you might want to become friends.
Just clicking on a potential friend, however, doesn't mean someone will be your friend and that you'll be able to visit his or her home page. Oh, no. That person must confirm you as a friend.
It took at least two days for one woman, whom I consider a true friend in real life, to accept me as a "friend." That dented my self-esteem. What gives, I wondered. Is she really debating accepting me as a friend? Was it something I said? Or does she just not get to Facebook often?
But then, there it was, her acceptance on my screen. I was whole again.
This works both ways. Facebook also alerts people who might want me as a "friend," and they solicit my approval. I must confirm or ignore them. I don't mean to be heartless, but I hardly knew some of these people. Now I'm supposed to suddenly care about photos of their babies?
All of this "friend" acquisition is colored by my purpose for being on Facebook. Which, at this point, I haven't fully defined.
It's a cool and easy way to share photos. It's like having a built-in mailing list. You simply post the photos and your "friends" are all notified.
Some of my Facebook friends share links to stories and commentaries they found interesting. That's potentially valuable.
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What you don't find useful on Facebook, you can simply ignore. You might learn, on any given day, that Tina doesn't want to do her laundry, or that Clint considers popcorn a meal, or that Pamela just became a fan of Emmylou Harris. Well, whoop-de-doo, you might think. Fine. Move on.
I have promised myself I'll not be possessed by Facebook. As much as I might find it compelling, I try to remember that when I'm on Facebook, I'm not talking to my wife or walking my dog or looking at the stars.
Facebook, nice. Real life, even better.
SAM COOK is a Duluth News Tribune columnist and outdoors writer. Reach him at (218) 723-5332 or scook@duluthnews.com .
