Thumbing through Facebook yesterday, I stirred up the memory of Martin Agronsky. I couldn’t remember his name, and searched Gronowsky, fruitlessly, until it came to me. Those hosts and commentators were the social media of my parents’ day. Last night’s broadcast was discussed in the office the next day.
At five, six, seven I recall none of Agronsky’s commentary. He was at the beginning of a career that included Pulitizer journalism; I assume he was fairly liberal, probably more so than my father. Of the Kent State shootings, my dad said “They didn’t follow orders,” and I turned on him for the first time ever. “They did nothing to die for.” The end of my closet liberal self.
I was enticed back to Facebook at the beginning of the year, when we would show the new administration he couldn’t tell us what to do. One day Pantsuit Nation began showing up in my feed. A few reads and I knew I must join. But, it turned out I was already in because someone nominated me. So I nominated two people. I wonder what they thought, or if they were just pleased, like I was.
I’m happy to have been part of the glorious beginning of the rebellion, until the end of March and the major brain injury. Now, struggle as I may, I am not the same person. I joined the village book club, to force myself to read. They’re reading “A long way home,” and I must get back to it.
Every morning I read my email, my news feed, Blogger and Facebook, in that order. It’s “something to do” for a couple of hours of my day. Yesterday, another epiphany. Facebook is like my balance work at the gym.
An exercise involves stepping on a series of boxes. They are two, four and six inches tall. Kristen mixes the order, so I don’t get too cocky. I step up with one foot, the other follows. I step down. I move to the next box, which may be shorter, or taller, and repeat. The tallest box is the struggle I overcome, weekly.
It occurred to me, the boxes are an analogy of Facebook posting responses. The commentator ascends a box, makes a statement, moves along to the next box and repeats. Add to the growing conviction that Mark Zuckerberg knew full well he was illegally pushing the election, and I’m about done with Facebook. Too bad I cannot make a Joe McCarthy analogy.
I need to get Laura’s band uniform from the cleaner and read my book. Until later.