This post is eventually about my dad’s take on Facebook, but first, I feel compelled to whinge a bit about my lack of blogging. (Enjoy. haha!)
The Lack of Blogging Whinging
How is it May? Seriously. And how have I not written a blog in two months? Ugh.
Thanks to an extraordinarily busy year at work so far, I’ve been absent on the personal creative front. I miss it. Very much. To be honest, this has extended beyond my “creative outlet” (i.e. this blog.) (i.e. the creativity piece is subjective). I’ve also been slightly hermit-ish and haven’t really spoken to family and friends a ton either. I’ve been slow to FaceTime, slow to answer emails and texts, slow to do social activities aside from a few meals that didn’t involve anyone I am married or related to. Basically, I’ve been a real all-around social peach, to put it nicely. (Yes, yes. Poor Kenny. And poor Gavin and Grace.) I feel as if I am literally living the adage “All work and no play makes Bridget a dull gal.” (Ok, so I paraphrased. But you know what I mean: I am working. A lot. And playing, only a little. Therefore, I feel dull.)
But not today. Today, I reached the tipping point of dullness, and need to take a few minutes to do something personal and sort of creative. I am eating my lunch while trolling through my hefty back log of blogs unwritten. Trying to identify a short, quick topic that I can type up and publish quickly.
And, I’ve found one. Woo hoo.
The Actual Blog: My Dad’s Take on Facebook
I particularly love this little gem.
It may possibly be the greatest summary of Facebook ever spoken. And I am not just saying that because these are my dad’s words.
My mom, dad and I were hanging around their house during one of my visits home. My mom was Facebooking, which is one of her newer favorite ways to kill time. (Sound familiar? haha.) She was informing my dad of the day’s latest – you know, things like Bob Smith* took his grandkids to see a movie, Jim Jones* was taking down his Christmas tree, and George Houlihan* was leaving tomorrow for a Caribbean cruise.
My dad, in a fashion that is uniquely his, deadpanned, “That’s great, Kath. The last time I saw George was when I walked out of Father Judge High School for the last time in 1966.”
And there it is. Facebook. Defined by a Baby Boomer. Virtual nostalgia. Or, if you’re like my dad, perhaps not so much.
*made up names for the purposes of this blog.