I know what you’re thinking. Worse, I know what my kids are thinking—-and they aren’t happy. Once again, Daaaaad is embarrassing them. They’d rather be dead than have their friends see their father and mother on facebook.

What caused this infantile behavior on our part? Actually, a friend of mine who’s a successful artist suggested it. “You have friends on,” he promised.

Artists are on the cutting edge, so I figured “What the hey.” I had always assumed it was about dating.

My guess wasn’t far off for after I completed my profile my spam filter was filled with e-mails from sites like eHarmony, match.com, “Hi Sailor”, and “Hot girls in the neighborhood.” (Allyn Ave.?). Seriously offended, I erased some of them.

Not owning a “head shot,” I decided to forego the picture. A local vintner immediately wrote that there’s a reason it’s called facebook.
Afraid folks would think I was searching for virtual love I uploaded the family Christmas card featuring the Goobs and the kids.

Several people then wrote to tell me that a family picture was lame. So, the Goobs got out the camera and I put on my cowboy hat (as though I wear it every day) and we took the shot against the barn. (I assume it’s driving the chicks wild).

No doubt dating, or “Hooking up” as the kids say is a big part of facebook. Romance is a big part of life. One must be careful to not sound like the fellow who promises he buys Playboy “just for the articles.”

Alas, as chance would have it, it appears that there is more to it than old guys making like Gatsby, keeping the green light on at the end of the pier in the hopes that Daisy might one day emerge. Who amongst us hasn’t harbored the fantasy that the one who jilted us as a teen has regretted it every single day since?

An old high school football teammate, Gerry, who used to live on Allyn Ave. was the first one to contact me. We haven’t laid eyes on each other since 1966. And it was a thrill to hear from a mother of three who reminded me we were in 4th grade together down in the city oh so many memories ago.

The jury is still out, but it seems that facebook (or its next imitator) is going to do to e-mail what the computer did to the type writer—render it obsolete. In fact, this is the argument I used when my kid wrote to tell me that it was childish for me to be on it.

“What man wants to say that Hank Lucetti was wrong to shoot the one handed jumper, and the only way to play basketball is by standing flat footed and using the two handed set shot?”

The world does change, and at times one has to recognize it in peril of finding himself destined for the La Brea Tar Pits. On the other hand, one doesn’t want to make a fool of himself by trying to look like a “Kool Mom,” either.

No doubt, the driving force behind facebook is narcissism. That’s what kids are about. They assume the entire world revolves around them. They think others want to see their pictures—that others are dying to know what they are doing at that moment—and that people actually care what they say or think about some mundane moment in time.

It pains one to know that adults aren't much different.

Fortunately, there is more to facebook than narcissistic indulgence.

Having failed to marry rich (The Goobs made the same mistake), and having no marketable skills, I still work for a living. The first note I sent was to the son of an old friend, a vineyard manager in the Russian River area because I have a client looking for a pinot vineyard. He answered back the same day. Another “friend” contacted me about a ranch. A vineyard manager, on her own volition, wrote to set up a meeting.

Because he was on facebook I contacted an old copy writing pal, Stretch, whose latest book, Killing Rommel is being made into a movie. He put me in touch=2 0with Nick, an art director from the old days who’s directing commercials today. I found several published writing friends were already on.

Shamelessly, like them, I think facebook might drive people to my website as well (at half cent a click I need all the traffic I can get) and it’s a good vehicle to promote my radio show.

Another friend, who’s a professor at Cal had just posted a review of a book my son had read. I sent it to him. Academia--Cal and Stanford professors and scientist are well represented.

I was astounded at the number of widows and widowers who were on. I just got a note from a woman, closer to eighty than seventy. The need to keep in contact is visceral—it’s in our DNA.

The “6 degrees of separation” aspect, alone, is worth the price of admission.
There’s some bad stuff. It’s invasive. Some privacy kinks need to be worked out. There’s lots of inane palaver. No doubt it can become habit forming.

In one week, I’ve heard from actors, writers, artists, professors, scientists, government officials, Vintners, growers, Winemakers, clients and long lost childhood friends. My guess is it’s all about the ease—friends, information, news and gossip are just a click away. Or maybe it’s simply about that green light at the end of the pier. Either way, it’s not going away.