Every day, I get requests from readers — some I know and others I don’t — to join Facebook with the hope of becoming “friends.”
Call me stubborn or old-fashioned, but I’m apparently one of the last people on earth not to have a Facebook page. My “friends” at church and work and some family members are all over the social networking site but, so far anyway, I’ve resisted the temptation to join.
A few weeks ago, I heard a couple of reporters talking in the newsroom about being friends. They weren’t talking about being friends face-to-face, which I’m sure they are, but about being friends on Facebook.
While I’m not on Facebook, I must confess, much of the correspondence I have with readers comes via e-mail. The days of the handwritten notes are pretty much over although, on occasion, I do receive those, too. When that happens, it’s either from a prisoner or someone from “The Greatest Generation.”
It’s always great getting one from “The Greatest Generation” folks because they write with such detail and compassion. E-mails kind of lack that poetry with all the BTWs and LOLs or other texting symbols thrown in there.
The penmanship of most of the handwritten letters that I receive is excellent, too. Good penmanship is something that escaped me in school. If anybody had to read my notes to figure out postgame quotes or facts from a meeting, they’d be in trouble. I have my own means of shorthand and calling it sloppy doesn’t do it justice.
But maybe, because the written word was scripted out so much more years ago, the penmanship of the folks from “The Greatest Generation” is some of the best you’ll ever see.
When my daughter was cleaning out my mother’s basement two summers ago, she came across some letters that my father had written to my mother when he was in the service. My mother couldn’t have been happier if my daughter had brought up a chest of $100 bills. That’s because the handwritten letter carried with it deep thoughts and emotion. She could read those letters over and over again, reliving a precious time in their lives when they had the world in front of them.
As for Facebook “friends,” I’m going to hold out. Some of my reporters use it as a tool for stories, which is a good idea. There’s so much information on Facebook. I get that. It’s another form of communication. But then, so are the Internet chat sites where the writer can say what he wants while hiding behind some ridiculous name.
One thing about it, when I write something, you know it. And if you don’t agree with it, you can call, e-mail or write me with the complaint, which many do. You may not get the satisfaction you want, but at least you know where it came from.
As for friends, I’ll keep mine with the face-to-face variety. And really, that’s the kind of friends everybody needs. Facebook has kept us from that kind of relationship. It does have its good points, like reconnecting with old friends and schoolmates and maybe keeping up with family like never before.
But, really, wouldn’t you even rather get a phone call from a friend than a message on Facebook?
In e-mails, you can’t hear the tone of voice or see someone rolling their eyes. On Facebook, you can erase someone who wants to be your friend, and there’s a Web site to tell you how it’s done without that person knowing. What kind of friend is that? Another site offers to “sell you friends” if you think you don’t have enough on Facebook.
E-mails are great and, like I said, it’s a form of communication that I use on a daily basis. I’m sure, once I tried it, Facebook would be great as well. But I’ll take those handwritten letters and phone calls every time.
Call me old-fashioned — even a rebel — but “friends” of the non-cyber variety seem a little more real to me.
MARK MAYNARD can be reached at mmaynard@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2648.
