Goodness gracious

I think I know how some of you might be feeling these days.

I still recall something that happened—golly, I must have been very young, perhaps as young as four or five—I’m fairly certain that I hadn’t started school yet. My mom had brought me with her to visit a friend who had two kids of her own. While they sat and talked, we played and watched TV—and got into a little disagreement about what TV show should be on.

“Now, now, Skippy,” my mom counseled. (Yeah, I was “Skippy” back then.) “It’s their TV—let them watch what they want to watch.” Well, that made perfect sense to me at the moment, as it happened, so I relented.

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FB follies

As a newspaper columnist, I realize I may be digging my own grave by writing about the Internet, but as an aging hipster, I can’t resist.

To the shock and chagrin of my teenaged children, I joined Facebook about a year ago. My aim, contrary to the fears of lost privacy that my children expressed, was to see what all the noise was about and do a better job of keeping up with old and new friends.

Now, I’m hooked. My Facebook page is my home page. Instead of AOL or Yahoo news, my day begins with me and my 112 friends. If my niece Abby had an audition, I know about it. The news of the day is personal now.

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