I HAVE a confession to make. About three years ago, I created a Facebook account for myself.
For those of you unfamiliar with Facebook, it is one of those Internet networking sites where you keep in touch with friends through messages and photographs.
The confession is: I got connected with the worst of intentions. My plan was to spy on my son, who was soon to head off to live in New York City.
Poor Jackson. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. If he didn't accept me as a "friend," he would never have a moment's rest. After all, I'd be wondering what he was hiding. If he accepted me as a friend, nothing would be private. If he misbehaved, I would know. If there were inappropriate photos, I would see them.
To his credit--and mine, I might add--he accepted me as a friend and I have been well-behaved. When I see something on his page that makes me cringe, I don't write nasty things on his "wall." If it really bothers me, I'll call him--or text, but that's another story for another time--and chat about my concerns.
It has worked well for us.
In time, my other sons, Bobby and Will, came on board and my daughter, Dawn. About a year ago, the nieces and nephews started joining. Last month, my niece Amanda, 16, created a page for my sisters, Eva (her mom) and Nina. They joined my brother Rocky and his wife, Chanley. Last to join the fun were my brother Carmine and his wife, Rosie.
We had a blast. It was almost as if we were sitting around the kitchen table. My brothers talked smack. My sisters and I encouraged each other through work, and marital and parenting woes.
And then came Christmas.
"Annette, I want a Facebook page," my mom said as I arrived in Palm Coast, Fla. Say what? At 71, mom is not the most technologically savvy person. She still needs my dad to download her e-mail.
"Facebook?" I asked.
"Yes. I want to stay in touch with you kids and the grandkids," she explained.
So, we sat down at the computer and I created a Facebook page for her. Within minutes--no lie--she had messages from Dawn and from a friend's daughter. Within a half-hour she had 19 friends. NINETEEN. Most, of course, were family. But still! Each time a new request came in, we laughed hysterically.
When we went out to a state park later that day, she made sure I took a "profile" picture of her and Dad to put on her page. My husband, Bob, just rolled his eyes. He is not a Facebook aficionado.
The next day, as Dad--of course--tried to help Mom navigate Facebook, he decided he needed a page of his own. He painstakingly went through the steps--without my help--and chose a photo from his computer that he liked as his profile picture. He sent out friend invitations.
And then the beeping started. Dad has a BlackBerry where all his e-mail is routed. Each time someone accepted him as a "friend," Facebook e-mailed him a notice. I'm just glad we were shopping and not at a movie.
When we got home, Dad accepted all his friends. And downloaded Facebook mobile, so that he can always have the application at his fingertips.
My parents are 71 years old. The youngest of the nieces and nephews on Facebook is 13. Talk about crossing the generations.
Annette Jones: 540/368-5046
Email: abjones@freelancestar.com