Keeping one's distance

Dave just joined Facebook and he's making much of the tool that lets you find everyone from the same graduating class you attended in high school. Yesterday he messaged 20 people off the list and was now electronically receiving all these life stories from former friends after losing touch over the past 16 years all in the course of a Tuesday afternoon. Brian Gumby was married with three kids. Joanne Deventis, an ex, had made an unimaginable family life with Joe Ballua. Most still live within 50 miles of the neighborhood we grew up in. Recently, out of the blue, I got a message from Leanne, my prom date.

A certain segment of the population, it seems, never again has to worry about losing touch with a friend, a lover, an acquaintance. The entire life of so many of those people we ate lunch with, walked to the bus stop with, fought, loved, or hated in what seems a lifetime ago and, perhaps now, barely remember, are today not at all difficult to find. I don't know the adjective, but hearing the tone and style of a person you once knew so closely, so suddenly one afternoon, after years and years, its a jarring barrage. People change so little: this may be the initial strongest revelation to come out of facebook. Is it not bound to have some altering impact upon a generational mindset that is presently hardwired to relish the temporary, the transient, and the whim?

We swore we would never grow up. Facebook now makes that sound less like a conviction to our ideals and much more like a simple excuse not to manage, organize, and care about anything.