Thanksgiving is a day when we take the opportunity to give thanks for all the blessings in our lives. I used the day in this way. I also used it to catch up with what my extended family members are getting up to and to relearn the names of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. My husband, on the other hand, chose to use his day of thanks in a somewhat different manner. Yesterday, my husband, the much put-upon, Fang, served up — in much the same way that he doled out the pie — several small slices of resentment, topped with a few savory dollops of bitterness.
We got on the topic of social media. I was commenting about how much I enjoyed keeping up with some of the family members on Facebook — watching the kids grow, discovering who had changed jobs, living vicariously through my cousin’s fabulous vacations, you know, that sort of thing. Mostly I chit-chatted idly with folks I don’t see that often anymore. I think I said something like how grateful I was for Facebook and other social media sites that allow me to feel a part of everyone’s life.
My Uncle had a decidedly different take on the Facebook phenomena. He was lamenting how, as a result of his wife’s Facebook page, nothing that he ever does is private — right down to where he has dinner on a Friday night, how much he won (or lost) in the weekly football pool, and why one might want to avoid him following his and the dog’s latest tangle with a backyard skunk. I got the sense that he wasn’t as big fan of the Facebook as I am.
During the course of the conversation my husband found an opportunity to do a bit of his own kvetching. He laughed and rolled his eyes as my Uncle regaled us with tales of his wife’s Facebook “antics” (his word!). My husband saw fit at this juncture to “warn” my Uncle about saying “too much” around his niece. (That would be me.) Fang explained to my Uncle that while the odd Facebook status update might prove slightly embarrassing, it couldn’t hold a candle to the blog post in terms of length, breadth, or depth.
Fang went on to explain how there are now — thanks to my blog —- any number of strangers out there (“they could be anybody!”) who know how many pairs of shoes he owns, his affinity for reality television, and how often he uses the word “stupid”. Fang doesn’t normally say much, but he was on a roll AND he wanted sympathy — a deadly combination!
He and my Uncle seemed on the verge of hatching a plan of their very own — a plan that included telling the world about the wives’ poor eating habits, redecorating failures, and all of the other wacky things the two of us are wont to engage in. I suppose they were doing this in an effort to staunch the creative outlets we have discovered, hers through Facebook, mine through blogging. It seems that they thought they could shame us into changing our ways.
We just laughed as we boldly challenged them to get their own Facebook pages and/or their own blogs. We’re not afraid. We know they won’t do either.
It helps that my Uncle doesn’t even know how to USE Facebook and that my husband wouldn’t know the first thing about blogging. If they put their heads together I’m sure there could be trouble, but they won’t. While an all-out internet war might prove interesting, my Aunt and I are fairly confident that it will never come to pass. Frankly, they’re entirely too busy rasslin’ skunks and “Squatchin'” vicariously to get up to any such thing.