A knitted caftan replaced the cashmere shawl she'd planned to don. Beneath it she wore fleece and flannels all the day long once the mid-February threat of ice and snow cancelled her Sunday afternoon rendezvous with friends over steaming bowls of chili. She positioned herself comfortably on her derriere all through the afternoon, a lap top, in lieu of a log-burning fire, searing her thighs. She missed the chili but enjoyed sampling her would-be appetizer: peanut butter, mixed with mini-chocolate chips and apple slices. Weight Watchers be damned. As night set in she declared she enjoyed being a Sunday afternoon sloth. Then she remembered last winter had brought a number of opportunities to sport bad hair and fuzzy items of clothing. The neighbors said they'd frequently sighted her morphing into a snow sloth back then. So, she declared that e'ry gal oughta have the opportunity to squalor round e'ry now and then….Don't you think? Well, I do….
It was a day of cultural immersion. And also of a day of redemption. I'm a bit enthralled by Facebook. I spent an entire Sunday afternoon last February, hopping off and on this cultural melting pot of politics, religions and pop culture. I was a bit taken aback by this unusual day I had. The weather cancelled my plans. I tend to be the type person who has every minute planned, even if for recreation. That's "good" and "bad" and part necessity of the complications of my life as a single mother of a child with severe autism. So, I took that unexpected gift of a day off and spent it on Facebook. OMG! I don't watch t.v. so this was my day for brain bubble gum–except it was so much more. I was so inspired and stimulated and touched by so much on a particular minister friend's page. I kept coming back and finding more things to read, which would then stimulate me to write blog posts of my own.
That February Sunday was the day after Whitney Houston's Funeral. I found much of the commentary on her death and life judgmental (my judgment) and disturbing. I blogged about it in a post published here: Whitney Houston's Death a Reminder of Our Humanity. But I also found on Facebook and the blogosphere glimpses of great compassion for both Whitney and for others. Such as one of my "liberal" friends post of a once-upon-a-time Religious Right leader who was humbled by the diagnosis of ALS. He lost his voice, his 5,000-member congregation and was now living a life that he described as what Jesus would have done, going to the bars.
Social media, surely everyone knows, is not just about an electronic version of second-grade-style "like"-ing. It is a powerful, contemporary medium through which courses the voices of our times. And while it can be used for such destructive purposes intended to break down and tear down and infuse negativity and pain, it can also be used for such great good.
