I sat down with a dear friend in her backyard this morning. The kids were starting their fun and we settled to catch up. Before I knew what was happening, my tech-savvy, happily tech-dependent friend laid out how easy it was going to be to GET ME ON FACEBOOK that moment. It was not the first time Tera had encouraged this recluse to join civilization. Nor has she been the only one. But this time my death grip on the comfort of simpler, slower times let up despite itself as she reasoned how quick it will be to snap a photo of me and jump-start my profile. She sounded so disarming. The import of my capitulation didn’t bear so heavily on me. I warned her I take few solo shots and when I do, run 20 to delete 19.  A blur of sixty shots later, we had done it. Indeed it was effortless and it was torture. I clutched my heart over a deep prick of pain. Tera chuckled. She cheerfully, so patiently picked out with me The One photo I okayed with hesitation.

My reluctance to Facebook has not been just about the hermit in me. Yes, I blog some things personal. But I am writing largely in the quiet of my solitude. I don’t know if I’m ready for the noise of a pajama cocktail party. There’s also the fear, a simple matter of keeping up with the times. Which, according to today’s M.O. means learning technology beyond the level of email. Yes, email is so 90s (and wonderfully so). Glancing at my husband’s Facebook page makes me dizzy. Just so many…buttons..and things going on at once.

I watched in awe as Tera’s fingers flew over her phone. She went on to crop my photo – a whole art studio and tool shed in that device of hers. So many icons on the screen, shapes, a feast of choices as we uploaded my picture.

I recoiled. I was overwhelmed. Facebook was unfamiliar terrain.  What technical functions will I have to learn?

Fingers tap danced briefly, and there I was. My smile greeting the masses. We hung the mask that had hid the recluse from the parade of life. In just a handful of clicks, I leapt out of the dark ages of my perceived security into a Brave New World. I am aware that the possibilities for online amity will only make swapping stories more enjoyable. But to put it plainly, change is hard. Congratulate me: a naturalized citizen of social media and of postmodern humanity.