Dance as Though the Internet is Watching

When I was in my twenties, I looked forward to becoming a feisty old lady -- some day. I wasn't in any hurry, but I imagined my twenty-year old self, still of sound mind, if not body, actively a part of conversations and the general narrative of society some seventy years down the road.

When I was in my thirties, I became a mom. This wonderful life choice helped to keep me young in some ways, while making me feel old in others. My daughter was born when I was thirty-six, quite over-the-hill for the area in which we live. As she grew into a young teen and then a young adult, her tastes were not my tastes. Her music was not my music. But she was the center of my life and keeping up with her interests kept me not only active in her life, but on top of things as well. Looking at the world through her eyes, it was easy to see a young adult perspective on life long after my own young adulthood had passed.

In my early fifties, I retired. (Clearly, my life plan does not involve consistency in traditional timing). Suddenly, I was part of a group where I was the youngest member -- quite a difference from my motherhood experience. Faced with some of the same challenges that concerned not my contemporaries, but those a decade or more older, I was in a great position to get an early start on that cool old lady vibe.

But the opposite happened. Considering things like the cost of health insurance and medication (alongside the cost of college) and recognizing the value of an early bird special led me dangerously in the direction of becoming old before my time. Just as I had to fight to stay a young-at-heart mom because I started late, now I had to fight to remain a young-at-heart retiree because I started early.

Not staying retired helped, and getting a teaching position at a college, where I once again got a first-hand view of the young adult perspective, helped even more. Still, as I immerse myself in serious adulthood (as opposed to the more frivolous variety I enjoyed in my twenties and thirties), it's easy to become, well...

Crochety.

Take last weekend, for example. I had the wonderful experience of being invited to the wedding of a former student. The groom had been one of my students in elementary school, and then again in college. I was so honored to be part of his day, to be included among the family and friends he wanted to celebrate with.

At the reception, my husband and I enjoyed having the opportunity to dance. I'm a decent dancer, but I don't dance like the twenty-somethings. I'm not as limber as I once was and I need to be reminded of the steps to the wedding reception standards from one celebration to the next, but I have fun.

Or, at least I was having fun until I discovered the plethora of cell phones scanning the crowd on the dance floor. I know no one was filming me in particular, but my ability to dance like no one was watching was greatly hindered by the idea that strangers could film me and post what was not intended to be a performance in a public forum.

Photo: Geralt via Pixabay

Crochety. I know. This is what the young people do.

And I love social media -- I do. I just don't like being part of it without granting permission.

The fact is, we behave differently in the private arena than we do in the public arena. I wasn't doing anything to be ashamed of, but suddenly, every mistake felt magnified and every misstep no longer my own business. It wasn't as though I wasn't aware that I was visible; it's just that there's a difference between being seen and going public. I could no longer dance like no one was watching.

Back when I was in my twenties, I could envision myself as a feisty old lady with very little trouble, but I never gave a thought to what I'd be like in my fifties. Middle age was old, but not cool, and not something young adults give much thought to. In my fifty-something mind, I'm still my twenty-something self when I get up and dance.

Unfortunately, there's nothing like a plethora of cell phones to prove me wrong.

Friday Feature: How Too Much News Fosters Fake News

Ever feel overwhelmed by information? A recent study suggests that that feeling, often exacerbated by social media, can be part of a vicious circle. A flood of information can make it harder for us to be discriminating about what we believe (and what we share), perpetuating the spread of information that is, shall we say, less than reliable.

Strangely enough, the problem and the cure are one and the same. Only by gathering more information -- checking sources, reading carefully (or simply reading beyond the headline, in some cases) -- can we make sure that the news that we're sharing is information rather than misinformation.

Or, to quote Eldridge Cleaver, "There is no more neutrality in the world. You either have to be part of the solution, or you're going to be part of the problem."

I know which side I hope to land on. Unfortunately, that means a bit less Twitter and a bit more critical thinking.

On Jersey Girls, Writers and Social Media

As a writer, I spend a lot of time cultivating a professional online presence. This blog, which doubles as my website. Facebook. Twitter. Pinterest. LinkedIn. In general, I try to follow the standard rule of thumb: don't put anything on your page you'd be embarrassed for your grandmother to see.

As I'm old enough to be a grandmother myself, that's not usually too difficult. I have no desire to post things that are vulgar or graphic, and I try not to post things that I suspect will hurt other people's feelings. 

Lately, though, I've been feeling passionate about a lot that's going on in the world. Perhaps it's the stage of life I'm in. As the parent of a young adult, I look at a lot of things through the lens of how it will affect her and her future. As an instructor at a college, I urge my students to view things through this lens as well. And I feel the need to speak out about things that bother me, whether it's to spread the word, express an opinion or spark conversation and inspire critical thinking.

Toward that end, I keep separate personal and professional Facebook pages and I try to keep politics off my professional page. But Facebook is something of an open book, making it easy to be found, and there is tremendous crossover between my friends (real world and Facebook) and my readers.

The other day, as I scrolled through my personal page to find a post I'd put up more than a month ago, I got to take in the big picture. As I moved past posts about education, equality and health care intermingled with silly Facebook quizzes, family stuff and humorous videos, it hit me.

This page is me. It clearly represents what matters to me in terms of people and issues and life. As such, it accomplishes exactly what the Dag Hammarskjold quote above describes.

Which is what I aspire to.

Toward that end, I'll continue to keep separate personal and professional Facebook pages, with my writer page being an island of books, writing and things relevant to those two topics. My Twitter feed is a mix of the personal and the professional, with what I hope is an undercurrent of respect. Pinterest is just for fun -- all pictures, no politics -- and LinkedIn is purely professional. Somehow, I seem to have achieved a social media presence akin to a conservative financial portfolio -- one where I don't shy away from risks, but rather, make sure my risky investments are counterbalanced by safe ones.

I hope you'll join me online in whatever location interests you most. More important, I hope you know that I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read my work, and that I will do my best to make sure maintain a tone of respect wherever you may find me, regardless of any difference of opinion or point of view.

But, as a 50-something Jersey girl, I just can't stay silent.

Link of the Week

Jana Reiss's "Ten Commandments of Social Media for Religion (and Other) Authors"
(publishersweekly.com)