2008

Facebook and the Bofa News

Facebook was why I stopped working on the BOFA news each month. Joining Facebook inundated me with joy. It was glorious to “see” so many people, and “talk” to them. Soon I didn’t feel like doing the news, and I didn’t do it. It’s quite difficult to do, but so many people check it out, over 1000 a day, and so many people have contacted other people through it, that I felt it had some importance. It was sort of my gift to Bofa and improv and lately Lit, and Canterbury. And a connection to so many people I have worked with and loved. And then I realized, as I was once again wrestling with my guilt at not doing it, and my feeling that I should do it, that an underlying truth was working in me, like a current in a river: Facebook, with its constant, lightning-speed communications, made the Bofa news irrelevant.

Over Christmas though, quite a few Bofa people asked, “hey, where’s the news- and your blog? You quit? What’s up with that?” And then I had a call from my sister, a computer teacher and website designer who created and looks after the site. “You know,“ she said, “it’s been 4 months since you did the News. The statistics show more people are looking at it than ever. More than any of my other sites. Do it, or decide not to.”

So I did it. The January news is up, and I am working on the February news. It all seemed worthwhile again. And not everyone is on Facebook, after all.

The news is a lot of work, but only for about three or five days each month ( if I stay on top of it.) And as for Facebook itself, it really is a phenomenal invention! Once again I am in love with it.
I am not very good at it. ( “Facebook” should be a verb. I expect it is one now, along with such abuses of the English language as “message me.”) Sometimes I can’t figure out where the messages are, under the videos and jokes and applications and gifts and various screens - and I go away, and leave it all for another time. But then, a gift, I return and find a new person, or someone finds me, I see a beloved face, and my heart lifts.

I’ll do the Bofa news.

Angel

I always thought angels were for making Major Announcements, or for shining royal blue stained-glass windows, or for the top of Christmas trees - or for poets. Or country songs.
And then I met one.

There has been a lot of ice around here lately. In fact icicles melted and then froze, in a vicious wind, an inch thick all over my windshield and the side of my car. I was unable to open the car door. It looked as though the ocean had frozen in waves on the hood and windshield. I had to cancel my evening plans that night, call my son and wait for help.

So today I was in Loblaws, looking for salt and not finding any, because there had been a run on it. A manager told me about ice-melter, near the front doors, and offered to get me a bag. I haven’t been able to lift anything heavy since ‘98 and The First Surgery, and I wasn’t sure how I should handle 22 pounds of ice-melter. You need to understand the problem: first there is getting the ice bag into the cart; then there is getting the bag onto the belt to pay for it; then there is getting it back into the cart; then there is getting it from the cart into the car. I usually put heavy things on the seat of the cart, and then tip them into the trunk. And, last, there is getting it into the house. I often get help with that.

Today I heard the woman in front of me in line at the cash telling someone in front of her that there was ice-melter at the front of the store. She had overheard my conversation with the manager, and we had smiled at each other as he brought me the bag. She turned to me, and indicating the bag of ice-melter, she said, “can I borrow this for the cashier to scan? That way this lady can pay for it and just pick up a bag on the way out.”
“Sure, “ I said.

That’s what happened. My lady then said, taking the bag back from the cashier, “I’ll just put this on here (the belt) for you,” “Great,” I said, “Too many surgeries make that a problem for me!” “Oh, then I’ll put it in the cart,” she said. As she put the bag in the cart, I blurted, “oh, could you put it in the seat instead? Then I can tip it into the car.” And she did.

After I paid for my groceries, three lifting problems solved easily, I headed out with my cart, over the icy parking lot, in the sunshine. I was putting the groceries onto the back seat, when out of nowhere my lady appeared. “I just saw you as I was leaving,” she said,” and I thought I would move this for you.“ She grabbed the bag and lifted it into the car seat for me. I saw her car beyond her, the driver door open. “Omigod,” I said, “you are an Angel. A real one.” “It takes two minutes,” she said, and she smiled at me as she drove off, and I felt through my whole body how lucky I was.