Carol Bergman

My daughter persuaded me to try Facebook sometime in 2007. As soon as I put my picture up, I felt uneasy. I tried to join the party. Then I left the party.

Over the Xmas weekend, my daughter told me that she keeps Facebook open all day and dips in and out of it as she is working. She lives in the mountains in upstate New York where the closest store is a twenty minute drive away. A sensation of connection –real or virtual, virtual or real—to the global village is comforting. More than comforting, it is essential. And this, I feel, is the underlying armature of Facebook and all other interactive technology. Ultimately, they are tools to remain connected and to find new connections where none existed before. Heightening our awareness of life beyond the singular borders of our lives, observing how others live, can only be positive.

Why then was I still uneasy as I entered the Facebook portal for a second time this week? It had been a long hiatus. My “friends” had abandoned me. One or two welcomed me back. The party had proceeded without me.

I returned some hugs, answered accumulated messages, peered into, over and through “walls,” accepted a “gift” of roses. And then I picked up the telephone and called a few people. The sound of the human voice is what I miss on Facebook. So, too, the opportunity to tell stories in full sentences and paragraphs.

I suppose I’ll continue for a while because there must be something I’m not getting, something elusive and magical perhaps?