It’s 11 p.m. and my husband, eyelids heavy with impending sleep, is beckoning me to bed.
“I’ll be right there,” I say without looking up, the glow from my computer screen illuminating my face. “I just need to check something.” “Uh-huh,” he says, staggering off to slumber with a wave, knowing where I am about to go, and that I will not be right there. It’s a place – not in the physical sense, but more in the state-of-mind sense – where everyone knows your name, along with as many intimate details of your personal life as you choose to share with whomever is reading.
Facebook. Or Crackbook, as one of my friends – real, not cyber – calls it. I am surprised the letters have not been permanently imprinted on my typing fingers. Hello. My name is Michelle. I am a Facebook junkie.
But I am not alone. Just ask my 110 friends – a modest number by many standards – and the other 150 million users that have joined the social networking site since it was launched five years ago by Mark Zuckerberg and some fellow classmates from their Harvard University dorm room. A toned-down, more sophisticated and tasteful counterpart to the popular teen site MySpace, Facebook allows users to communicate with each other through chat, photo posting, a messaging service, dozens of applications, news feeds and of course, the status update (Michelle is eating frozen yogurt; Michelle is on deadline; Michelle is past deadline), which allows you to share with your “friends” what you are doing in real time. Think Jack Bauer on a slow day.
Facebook has now become a tool for communication that spans not only geographic boundaries, but generations – from teens to octogenarians and beyond. Users connect with long-lost friends, search for missing relatives, post news, network their businesses and meet new people. And our local section of the technology superhighway is definitely eating its share of the pie.
Type in “Merrimack Valley” in the search bar, and you’ll not only be presented with a list of hundreds of Facebook users living here, but also local service organizations, social and school alumni groups, churches, musicians, small businesses, publications, support groups, political sites and a slew of off-the-cuff pages, including sites that fan the fires of old rivalries – all of which provide users of similar interests a way to communicate and interact.
For many, logging on to the site has become a daily part of life. They chat with people across the street and on the other side of the ocean. And they know more about people they haven’t thought of in years than they did when they actually spoke (or didn’t speak) to them face to face.
“I was so anti-Facebook,” said Zoe Rudner Schwalje, who lives in Hampstead and joined at the urging of a friend while on maternity leave. “I just didn’t realize that everyone I ever met in my whole life would be on it.” Like many others, Schwalje said that through Facebook, she has caught up with old friends – people she hasn’t heard from in years. She added that the site has also provided her a break from the steady stream of duties that come with motherhood. “Right now, I’m a stay-at-home mom trying to keep my head above water,” she said. “If Facebook gets me through, then more power to me.”
Erica Jacobsen of Newbury said that her Facebooking really kicked in after she downloaded the mobile application for her iPhone. “So whenever I’m checking email, I just jump over to Facebook to see what else is new,” she said. And while she admits she is “plugged in” way too often, Jacobsen insists she is not addicted to Facebook. “I’m never on it for an extended period of time, but I do check it often throughout the day.” In fact, when Jacobsen’s second child was born, her friends knew of her labor and delivery through – you guessed it – Facebook. “Blame it on my iPhone,” she said. “It was there, I had a Wifi connection, and I have to say, I often think in Facebook status updates, so it just seemed natural to say, ‘Erica is happy to have an epidural.’” All that was left to post after that was that at 4:15 p.m., she’d had a beautiful baby girl.
But with all this instant online communication – typed in short, sporadic bursts by people who may never speak again by phone – could Facebook be ruining the art of conversation and real face-to-face relationships?
Not according to Sean De Veau, Dean of Students at Merrimack College in North Andover, who has not only followed the evolution of Facebook from its beginning, but also conducts seminars on the site. He says that Facebook is only part of the ever-evolving electronic phenomenon that has standardized instant gratification. De Veau uses Facebook both professionally and personally; his 477 “friends” consist of college alumni, colleagues, current students and personal friends. “It’s a nice way for me to be able to connect with people,” he said.
Merrimack College also has its own Facebook page, where alumni can read current news about their alma mater and the page moderator can contact them instantly about events without having to chase down email addresses. Over 1,300 Facebook users are members of the site.
Brian Seeley of West Newbury became addicted to Facebook when he first joined and started amassing friends (he and his wife are in competition to see who can “friend” the most people), but now says that some of the novelty has worn off. Some days, he’ll check in several times a day. Other times, days will go by without him logging in at all. “It’s just another way to keep in touch in this day and age,” he said. “I guess email, instant messages, cell phones and texting weren’t enough.”
For Seeley’s wife, Stephanie, those things weren’t enough. It was only after joining Facebook that she connected with the mother of a childhood friend, a woman she had referred to as her “second mother.” “Even though she lived a mile down the road from us, it took Facebook to get us back in touch,” said Seeley. The women chatted quite a bit, but only a week after they had become online friends, Stephanie learned that her “second mother” had suffered a brain aneurism and passed away. “I told her that if it wasn’t for reconnecting with her on Facebook, she probably would have read that she had passed away in the paper and not had the opportunity to talk with her at all,” Seeley said. “Even stranger, one of the last messages she wrote to my wife was how time goes by so quickly and that life is so short that you need to stop and smell the roses every now and then.”
The Facebook Factor – March / April 2009
“I’ll be right there,” I say without looking up, the glow from my computer screen illuminating my face. “I just need to check something.” “Uh-huh,” he says, staggering off to slumber with a wave, knowing where I am about to go, and that I will not be right there. It’s a place – not in the physical sense, but more in the state-of-mind sense – where everyone knows your name, along with as many intimate details of your personal life as you choose to share with whomever is reading.
Facebook. Or Crackbook, as one of my friends – real, not cyber – calls it. I am surprised the letters have not been permanently imprinted on my typing fingers. Hello. My name is Michelle. I am a Facebook junkie.
But I am not alone. Just ask my 110 friends – a modest number by many standards – and the other 150 million users that have joined the social networking site since it was launched five years ago by Mark Zuckerberg and some fellow classmates from their Harvard University dorm room. A toned-down, more sophisticated and tasteful counterpart to the popular teen site MySpace, Facebook allows users to communicate with each other through chat, photo posting, a messaging service, dozens of applications, news feeds and of course, the status update (Michelle is eating frozen yogurt; Michelle is on deadline; Michelle is past deadline), which allows you to share with your “friends” what you are doing in real time. Think Jack Bauer on a slow day.
Facebook has now become a tool for communication that spans not only geographic boundaries, but generations – from teens to octogenarians and beyond. Users connect with long-lost friends, search for missing relatives, post news, network their businesses and meet new people. And our local section of the technology superhighway is definitely eating its share of the pie.
Type in “Merrimack Valley” in the search bar, and you’ll not only be presented with a list of hundreds of Facebook users living here, but also local service organizations, social and school alumni groups, churches, musicians, small businesses, publications, support groups, political sites and a slew of off-the-cuff pages, including sites that fan the fires of old rivalries – all of which provide users of similar interests a way to communicate and interact.
For many, logging on to the site has become a daily part of life. They chat with people across the street and on the other side of the ocean. And they know more about people they haven’t thought of in years than they did when they actually spoke (or didn’t speak) to them face to face.
“I was so anti-Facebook,” said Zoe Rudner Schwalje, who lives in Hampstead and joined at the urging of a friend while on maternity leave. “I just didn’t realize that everyone I ever met in my whole life would be on it.” Like many others, Schwalje said that through Facebook, she has caught up with old friends – people she hasn’t heard from in years. She added that the site has also provided her a break from the steady stream of duties that come with motherhood. “Right now, I’m a stay-at-home mom trying to keep my head above water,” she said. “If Facebook gets me through, then more power to me.”
Erica Jacobsen of Newbury said that her Facebooking really kicked in after she downloaded the mobile application for her iPhone. “So whenever I’m checking email, I just jump over to Facebook to see what else is new,” she said. And while she admits she is “plugged in” way too often, Jacobsen insists she is not addicted to Facebook. “I’m never on it for an extended period of time, but I do check it often throughout the day.” In fact, when Jacobsen’s second child was born, her friends knew of her labor and delivery through – you guessed it – Facebook. “Blame it on my iPhone,” she said. “It was there, I had a Wifi connection, and I have to say, I often think in Facebook status updates, so it just seemed natural to say, ‘Erica is happy to have an epidural.’” All that was left to post after that was that at 4:15 p.m., she’d had a beautiful baby girl.
But with all this instant online communication – typed in short, sporadic bursts by people who may never speak again by phone – could Facebook be ruining the art of conversation and real face-to-face relationships?
Not according to Sean De Veau, Dean of Students at Merrimack College in North Andover, who has not only followed the evolution of Facebook from its beginning, but also conducts seminars on the site. He says that Facebook is only part of the ever-evolving electronic phenomenon that has standardized instant gratification. De Veau uses Facebook both professionally and personally; his 477 “friends” consist of college alumni, colleagues, current students and personal friends. “It’s a nice way for me to be able to connect with people,” he said.
Merrimack College also has its own Facebook page, where alumni can read current news about their alma mater and the page moderator can contact them instantly about events without having to chase down email addresses. Over 1,300 Facebook users are members of the site.
Brian Seeley of West Newbury became addicted to Facebook when he first joined and started amassing friends (he and his wife are in competition to see who can “friend” the most people), but now says that some of the novelty has worn off. Some days, he’ll check in several times a day. Other times, days will go by without him logging in at all. “It’s just another way to keep in touch in this day and age,” he said. “I guess email, instant messages, cell phones and texting weren’t enough.”
For Seeley’s wife, Stephanie, those things weren’t enough. It was only after joining Facebook that she connected with the mother of a childhood friend, a woman she had referred to as her “second mother.” “Even though she lived a mile down the road from us, it took Facebook to get us back in touch,” said Seeley. The women chatted quite a bit, but only a week after they had become online friends, Stephanie learned that her “second mother” had suffered a brain aneurism and passed away. “I told her that if it wasn’t for reconnecting with her on Facebook, she probably would have read that she had passed away in the paper and not had the opportunity to talk with her at all,” Seeley said. “Even stranger, one of the last messages she wrote to my wife was how time goes by so quickly and that life is so short that you need to stop and smell the roses every now and then.”