I'm Beginning to Like Facebook!

by Lois Jamieson 

A year ago I wrote a post called “Do I Really Need to Know”. In it I asked myself this question. Do I really need to know about Facebook, Twitter, I-Pods, I-Phones, I-Pads and all the rest? And then I wrote about my struggles to master Facebook. The biggest problem I had was remembering my password. Well, in the next few months, I began writing all my passwords in a little blue notebook. That helped a lot, because I have a lot of passwords.

 I have an e-mail password, a computer password, a Facebook password, a cell phone password, an Amazon password, a Shutterfly password, a Web e-mail password, a password for my blog Kids Without Stuff, and a password for this blog – Ageless at 80. Now you know why I can’t remember a password and need my little blue notebook. I try to make them all the same, but it doesn’t always work that way, some have to be shorter and some longer. I’m beginning to think my partner, Phoebe, has the right idea. I think she has only three passwords, if that many.

 But, back to Facebook.  As I have mentioned to you before, I have volunteered at a school for disadvantaged kids, for the past seven years. Once the students graduate from high school, I lose track of them. BUT….I discovered I can keep in touch with them on Facebook and now I regularly ‘chat’ with several of them on the internet. As a matter of fact, just this week I celebrated my eighty third birthday, and I received three best wishes from the graduates, plus eleven from friends, and even received a beautiful card from one – all on Facebook.

I’ll admit, I still love going to the mail box and finding birthday cards, and I did receive many that way.

I also find that I can keep in better touch with my grandchildren via the internet. 

So, you might say I’m beginning to like Facebook!

A Friend is a Friend, is a Friend, is a Friend

A Friend is a Friend, is a Friend, is a Friend

What is a friend? I’ll tell you. It is a person with whom you dare to be yourself. Your soul can go naked with him. He seems to ask you to put on nothing. Only to be what you really are. He does not want you to be better or worse. When you are with him, you feel as a prisoner feels who has been declared innocent. You do not have to be on guard. You can say what you think, so long as it is genuinely you. He understands those contradictions in your nature that cause others to misjudge you. With him you breathe free – you can avow your little vanities and envies and hates and vicious sparks, your meannesses and absurdities, and in opening them up to him they are lost, dissolved on the white ocean of his loyalty.

He understands. You do not have to be careful. You can abuse him, neglect him, tolerate him. Best of all, you can keep still with him. It makes no difference. He loves you. He is like fire that purges all you do. He is like water that cleanses all that you say. He is like wine that warms you to the bone. He understands. You can weep with him, laugh with him, pray with him.

Through and underneath it all he sees, knows and loves you. A friend, I repeat, is one with whom you dare to be yourself.

This definition of a friend comes from an unknown author. I found it in the 1975 Farmers’ Almanac.

I will add a question and an answer to it.  Do you have just such a friend? I do, and it is my husband of fifty-nine years.

Food Facts

Friday, May 11^th is National Eat What You Want Day.

I don’t know who dreams up these ‘odd’ national whatever days, but I’m really looking forward to this one. I’m sitting here at my desk drinking a chocolate milk shake as I write this. I call that a good example of Eat What You Want Day, even though I’m a few days early. Who knows what gourmet treats I will have on Friday.

 Speaking of food, sometimes you find yourself in a quandary about the proper way to eat certain food when dining out. Here are a few tips from my blog post Etiquette Boo Boos:

If the salad leaves are too large, cutting lettuce is perfectly okay. Use your knife and then request a clean knife to use on the main course.