Objectionable Subjectivity: Understanding Context in Social Media

It’s fun to read status updates on Facebook. That’s why we go onto social media, after all. To bring a piece of our lives to the general public, so that we can share our experiences and feel closer to people we know. We cannot logically spend every waking moment with everyone we know, so Facebook and other social media give us the ability to catch the highlights of our friends’ experiences and feelings without crowding them or worrying them.
Sometimes, however, there are status updates that are slightly worrying, if you take them at face value. For example, I went roller skating the other night and I began to write a post that went something like this: “It’s really hard for me not to run over little kids.”
I re-read this prepost, and I realized how terrible it sounded. I wasn’t actually struggling with an evil desire to smash little kids with my car. Not at all.
No, I was writing about the little kids that kept darting out in front of me, as I tried to remember how to roller-skate, and how I nearly fell down trying to avoid them.
I was aware, rather jarringly, actually, that many people on Facebook would not know that I was roller skating, and would call the authorities on me.
So, it takes a little thought to make sure your posts do not come out sounding like you’re a homicidal maniac.
Nevertheless, Sometimes spontaneity creates a very humorous experience for your status followers.
I was thinking about badgers at work, when accosted by several books on them checked out by a young patron one day. When I finished, I went to my computer and looked up some interesting info about badgers for my own edification. There, on the screen was this precious looking badger (not one of the more well-known looks a badger can give you) and I thought about a context for a caption for the photo. (Haven’t I gone through this before?)

“I ain’t dig no holes in your backyard.”

Without trying to sound like I’m justifying my post, I realize now that there was some context missing from this post.
Badgers are from Europe and England, so I should have written
“I ain’t dig no ‘oles in your backyard, gov’nor.” That’s how it sounded in my head.
I guess it could be misconstrued as slightly racist, although it never occurred to me at the time (I was smitten by the cute little look on his face.)
Some of my friends on Facebook ‘LIKEd’ my post and obviously didn’t see it as offensive. Yet, when it was gently mentioned to me that it was a tad racist, I went red, and removed it immediately.
It’s difficult to understand this extreme need for context in social media posts. In real life, if we're with friends, most of our comments would flow within the context of a conversation. On Facebook, a random status update can be seen as standing alone and not really needing context if one infers from the statement only what it says. For example:“Good night world, sleep tight, see you tomorrow.” This is a perfect post. It contains within it the context of the statement, without need for more information. This can be considered a good post, and safe from misunderstanding.
Whereas what I almost wrote about little kids and did write about the badger were not good posts because they assumed wrongly that the audience was understanding the context of the post.
Admittedly both were pretty tame in comparison with some posts I’ve seen, yet within the realm of posts that make sense to everyone I failed to consider my own subjectivity.

The FRIENDING Paradigm: How Facebook Makes Us Think about Friendship.

“[(Facebook) been berry, berry good to me”  -Chico Escuela. Paraphrase of SNL skit, 1978]

It's been a little under a year now that I have been on Facebook. It was a tough decision to begin with, too. Many friends had already signed up, while I stood, as it were, indignantly clenching my fists in a pantomime of a three-year-old-ab-so-lute-ly NOT moving and ready to hold my breath until I passed out if necessary, to keep from hearing just one more reason why I should sign up.
I would preach the ills of participation to anyone who would listen, and shake my head sadly when I learned that another person had signed up.
Meanwhile, my wife took a new position with a company which required her to make a Facebook account. She told me about it, and I said "Have fun with that, Dear!"
She informed me, lovingly, that she thought that we would both sign up, together. Wisely, I acquiesced.
Since then this strange Internet phenomenon has grown into both of our lives and changed many things. I even have a Page now.
Despite my original misgivings and outright loathing of the idea of Facebook, I actually kind of enjoyed it.
It put me back in stronger contact with my brother, my best friend from childhood, my cousins, my wife’s family and even some folks from those old days that I didn’t mind chatting with occasionally.
It was also a great way to keep up with our kids without seeming like we were stalking them.
However, the one thing that has always puzzled me about Facebook, is the way it changes or adjusts our concept of friendship. One of the initial reasons that I wouldn’t sign up was that I did not wish to fend away all of the people from high school with whom I had no desire to become connected with again.
When someone would ‘FRIEND’ me, I would always be a little chagrined if I did not want to be ‘FRIENDS’ with them. I felt bad. I pictured that person approaching me on the street one day, extending a hand of friendship, and me rapidly creating a calculus of reasons why I don’t want to be friends and then not shaking hands, but shaking my head instead.
Worse, instead of ‘NO’ or ‘NO, I DO NOT WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU’ buttons for denial of ‘FRIEND’ requests, there is simply an ‘IGNORE’ button. Instead of even acknowledging that someone has attempted to be friends with you, you simply keep walking, and ignore them completely.
I struggled with this, until my wife pointed out that the other people don’t know if you’ve ‘IGNORED’ them, just like I didn’t know if those folks I had tried to ‘FRIEND’ were ignoring me. They probably were, I surmised.
But even worse than the ‘FRIEND’ requests, was when Facebook changed it’s ‘FRIEND’ categorizations.
Suddenly I had a choice where I could put the folks I decided to ‘FRIEND.’
I could put them in ‘Acquaintances,’ ‘Local Area,’ ‘Family’ or ‘Close Friends,’ among others.
It seemed a challenge to decide where everyone outside of the family should go. If I put friend X as an acquaintance, would they be offended? I only see friend Z every few weeks, and we don’t have a lot of time to hang out, but I really like them and we get along great. Should I put friend Z as an Acquaintance or Close Friend?
And what about Friend W? She and I were good friends, years ago, but that was long before marriage. Do I leave her out completely?
As for friend W, my wife and I decided on a simple, albeit surefire way to decide about members of the opposite sex we ‘FRIEND’. If they are friends with both of us in ‘real life’ it’s okay. This works with our Close Couple Friends, and so on. If they are colleagues and there is a professional relationship, we can ‘FRIEND,’ as long as it’s monitored for weirdness, (that’s a whole other blog unto itself, these days!) And of course, if we wish to ‘FRIEND’ someone who is of the opposite sex, it’s appropriate to tell each other, and make sure that we are both aware of it.
Regardless of the etiquette of Facebook, it is so much more complicated than real life relationships. Missing are the facial expressions, the physical aspects of the hug, the handshake and the genial pat on the back, only to be replaced sporadically by a ‘POKE’.
Also missing, however, is the distance, the years of no correspondence and not getting to see ‘their kids growing up’.
A little less than a year, and I’m still not quite sure how I feel about Facebook’s philosophy on ‘FRIEND,’ but I am really grateful to be back in contact with friends I thought I would never see again.

"Let Me be Brave..."

I resigned my position with the school system in July. Before that I worked with children with special needs for eight years. Every one of those years I went to and helped with at least four Special Olympics competitions.

Since I left, though, I have kept up with the days that my former class attends the Special Olympics in our area. I take that day off, even if it means working on a weekend, because to me Special Olympics is just an amazing opportunity to share the lives and celebrate the accomplishments of these children. It is an opportunity for us to remember that people we sometimes marginalize are valuable and important members of our society.
This week was Special Olympics Swimming Competition at our local YMCA. I was up early and very excited to get there. I so enjoy visiting with my former students.
It's also wonderful to meet the new children that have joined the class since I left. It's great to see how much the children I worked with so closely have grown. Most of all, it's wonderful to be able to be a first hand witness to the talents and skills that these children have and to celebrate with them.
Special Olympics was created by Eunice Kennedy Shriver in 1968. She believed that "that individuals with intellectual disabilities were far more capable in sports and physical activity than many experts believed possible." She was correct.

Special Olympics North Carolina is one of the largest in the country with vast numbers of participants. 
There is nothing quite like standing at the end of the pool or the finish line and seeing the look of determination and joy on the face of a competitor as they swim or run as hard as they can toward the edge.
The children love the adulation, and its heartwarming to see their smiling faces. More than anything, it is amazing to see the community involvement and support. People from all over our county and state travel to share in the children's accomplishments. News organizations and radio stations all join in the fun. High schools students volunteer their time to take tickets, sell concessions and paint faces.

The next Special Olympics event in our area is Track and Field. More information can be found at http://www.sonc.net/?submit.x=0&submit.y=0&submit=Search&s=randolph+county

Please plan on joining us for a fun day of competition, cheering, joy and success.

It is incredibly important to go, help and cheer, and a perfect opportunity to experience one of the most uplifting events possible.

For more information about Special Olympics check out this link: http://www.specialolympics.org/

On Getting It Done.

I recently made an internal list of goals.
It was a big deal, because a lot of things need to be accomplished before the unpleasant heat of summer is upon us.
For several years now I've had an out building. A little shed-like building for my tools and lawnmower, etc.
Initially, I was so excited to have this building, I really "Went to Town" getting it all set up for the tools and things that I had.
Then the moving truck came.
I had to rethink my organization plans, to encompass the 15 boxes of tools and 'garage items' that came from my Father-in-Law's garage and collection.
For a really long time, I simply 'coexisted' with the boxes. Pretending they weren't there was the only way I could deal with the sudden clutter that infested my otherwise perfect space.
A few weeks ago I had a conversation with my wife concerning some "need to fix RIGHT-A-WAY" issues around the house.
I felt guilt at not having made enough time in my luxurious weekends to face the needs and do the deeds.
So, I concocted a list of prioritized 'jobs' that logistically addressed and accomplished every single issue, so as to maximize efficiency.
The first item on the list was "clean out shop."
That's what I call my out-building.
I knew if I were to accomplish my goals, I had to face the biggest goal of all first.
Today, I woke up, ate a delicious breakfast made by my lovely wife, got dressed in my work clothes and headed to the back yard.
I put on the Blues (always a good background soundtrack to big projects) and set to clearing the clutter.
Four hours later, as I hurridly cleared as much of the trash and clutter from my backyard as I could, I turned and looked into my shop to see what I had accomplished.
I nearly fainted.
I am an incredibly optimistic man. I can see the good in a tidal wave. But, I am also growing a new pragmatic gland, and it was throbbing.
A wave of vitriolic speech welled up within me, and I nearly fainted again.
Aside from hanging a few garden tools and cleaning the floor and and putting up a few shelves and 'reorganizing' some of my tools, my shop was still a disaster, albeit a slightly less disatrous disaster.
I work next Saturday. That pushes my next step in my list to the following weekend. But I will carry on toward the goal. Every little bit helps, as they say.
I feel somewhat good about what little I did get done. But not enough to put it off any further.
I am motivated at last to stop the putting-off, and start the getting done.

The Youngest of Them All or, How I was Selfish with my Grandfather

[Dedicated to my brother and all our cousins, and most especially to Pop-Pop.]

I recently posted an interesting picture on Facebook.
A friend of mine shared a link which showed fifty ‘Unexplainable Pictures.’ They were all rather old, and some of them were odd, and some just plain bizarre. The fact that none of them had a caption was really great. It made them mysterious and, well, funny. That was the intent, obviously.
But I do not possess a typical sense of humor. I think bizarre pictures with witty captions are even funnier than those without them. It’s a little bit like cartooning, as well. If you are a cartoonist, you draw a funny picture and you come up with a witty comment or caption for it. In this case, I didn’t have to draw the picture, which is good, because I’m lazy.
Anyway, while scanning through the fifty photos, I came across one that made me chuckle out loud. (COL, for those of you who want to use it on Facebook or texting.)


This was just too funny. Awful, but funny. I knew just the right comment would make this a real gem. However, more than that, it reminded me of an old family legend which held that my grandfather, ‘Pop-Pop,’ started smoking at an extremely young age, right about eight-years-old.
Well I uploaded the funny picture with my clever, albeit slightly obscure comment which I thought was funny, and more importantly (to me, anyway) partially true.
“Pop-pop always said he smoked from the age of 4. Well, so he did.”
Okay, I did change the age, because this little guy is not eight, obviously.
But it is not my Pop-Pop.
I keep up with two of my cousins on Facebook, and one of them responded to my post asking if this was really a picture of Pop-Pop. I laughed out loud at that.
Then I had an epiphany. He wasn’t just my grandfather. He was our grandfather. I was not being intentionally selfish with my grandfather, but why had it never occurred to me that there were other people out there who knew the same legends?
The answer is simple.
I am the absolute youngest first cousin on that side of my family. My father is the youngest of three, and I am the youngest of his two children. The youngest by twelve years.
Although my brother is younger than some of our cousins, he is basically their contemporary.
So when I was small, they were older teenagers, or just starting out in adulthood.
They had more time with Pop-Pop and earlier exposure to his gravelly voice and extra-dry sense of humor.
When I was old enough to enjoy spending time with him and ask him all the questions about ‘his day’ and about the legends which had risen up around him or even just sit and watch baseball (at extremely high volumes,) my cousins were all grown up and spread liberally across the country. I had him all to my self. I guess that is how I have always thought of it.
He lived to be quite old despite his smoking. Which is not to say that I endorse smoking of any kind, or at any age. What I mean is he had a good long life, and I am very glad to have known him.
And the lesson is, just because I don’t see them often, and didn’t really have a chance to grow up with them, I have cousins, and they shared a grandmother and grandfather with me and my brother. An obvious lesson, perhaps, but I needed it.
Here’s to all of my cousins. Cheers, y’all!
And here’s to you, Pop-Pop. Cheers to you too.