A Burst of Joy on Facebook

 

There are more than a half dozen reasons why I’ve stayed on Facebook for more than a decade. But this summer it brought me unexpected new joy. I originally joined Facebook for networking for not-for-profit business reasons. I was the newly installed Executive Director of a federation of NFP agencies. Rather than risk their reputations by making mistakes or violating Facebook protocol on my initial activity, I joined under my own name.

 

Since I still use my birth name that quickly led to reconnecting with old friends who found me. I promptly learned that people share all sorts of routine information on the site. Photos of the previous night’s meal are just one popular example. Imagine my surprise when one day some friends’ postings were anything but mundane. They can best be described as providing me with unexpected bursts of joy.

 

As I scrolled through my news feed on that particular day, two photos that were not too far apart in the feed caught my attention. They were anniversary shots of friends who had each found their soul mates later in life. One couple lives in my neighborhood in Connecticut. The other is in New Jersey and is part of what I think of as my extended family. Though many couples marry in their twenties or early thirties, later marriages seem to be more and more common. My current husband and I married later in life.

 

I was gob smacked at how deliriously happy these two couples clearly are. Their obvious joy created a similar burst of joy in me, so much so that their photos brought me to the verge of tears. Of all the reasons I stay on Facebook despite the rancor that frequently erupts, photos like these are a key reason I check in at least once a day to see what’s going on in the Facebook world.

 

My husband and I never had children with either of our marriages. Photos of adorable grandchildren are among the most frequent postings on Facebook and another top reason I log in. I claim that I live vicariously through the offspring of others. I used to get that only with holiday cards that had the latest family photos. Now I get them all the time online. Shots of family pets, also popular, easily catch my attention, too, especially cats that were adopted from shelters. Those of my friends who don’t have their own offspring are almost guaranteed to have pets that might as well be human. Their photos are in fierce competition for likes and shares with those of toddlers, preteens and teenagers. Ditto for accounts of their birthday celebrations.

 

Speaking of those celebrations, one of Facebook’s features is providing daily reminders of friends’ birthdays. I usually post a short greeting on their feed, even if I don’t know them well. I consider it a friendly thing to do and most of them seem pleased and acknowledge the greetings.

 

Someone who found me early on was my best friend from our New Jersey grammar school. We went our separate ways in high school. Not because we had a falling out. We just had different interests and followed different paths. For example, I joined the band; she joined the rifle club. We were coming up on our 50^th high school reunion and we wound up working together to spearhead our events, even though I now live in Connecticut. Previously, Facebook had also been useful for planning my college reunions and some other activities.

 

A more pedestrian benefit of Facebook networking is finding people and services for various needs. I’ve obtained recommendations for cleaning services that way. Other folks’ searches have turned up dog walkers. My own most recent request was for a wagon to help transport my saxophone, folding chair and music stand from a parking lot to an outdoor band shell for weekly practice.

 

Bursts of joy on seeing special anniversary photos. Pictures of new grandchildren. Shots of cuddly family pets. Those are some of the things that keep me on Facebook. Let’s hear it for vicarious pleasures!

 

 

Copyright 2021 Business Theatre Unlimited

Untrimming the Tree

Untrimming the Christmas tree has always been one of the highlights of the season for me. Many people find it a depressing task, coming as it does after the holiday festivities are over. They dread the day the tree starts going “Plink! Plink!” when anyone bumps into it. For me, that plinking heralds a quiet evening of cherished memories.

I used to have annual trimming parties, each with a different theme. The guests really did decorate my tree. I was kept busy refilling punch bowls and chafing dishes. The untrimming became my special time to renew acquaintances with old friends—both ornamental and human.

Over the years my ornaments have come from many places and many guests. Some locations, like Cape Cod, are where I vacationed regularly and found instant relaxation each time I returned. Others are locales I visited but once, perhaps on a business trip. The giving guests, similarly, ranged from trimming “regulars” whom I saw off-season, to friends with whom I’ve since lost touch.

As I take each ornament off the tree, I think of the person or place it came from. These memories trigger others, often having nothing to do with Christmas. Not all are happy ones, but all are treasured.

Three small glass balls that hung on my family’s tree when I was young remind me of the year Santa brought me Zippy the Chimp. Anyone who can sing “It’s Howdy Doody Time” will remember Zippy. So will my nephew, Barry, who is a generation removed from Howdy. As a toddler visiting his grandparents, he became attached to Zippy, long abandoned in my old bedroom. The chimp was relocated to Vermont and was well-loved (and well-worn) before his second owner, too, outgrew him.

A chartreuse clay cow is among the ornaments I’ve had the longest. One of my Jewish classmates brought it to my first tree trim, my senior year in college. It was twenty-five years after graduation before I saw Myra again at a reunion, but I’d been with her in thought every Christmas in between.

Two eggs decorated with dried flowers are from Scranton, Pennsylvania where I was on assignment for several months. In the mall, I bought a small, artificial Christmas tree and selected trimmings to send to my cousin, who was fighting in Viet Nam. I set the tree up temporarily in my motel room until I could figure out how to ship it. It was early November, and I wondered if the cleaning staff thought I didn’t expect to live until Christmas. I prayed that my cousin would. He did, but he’s gone now.

A naked, anatomically correct angel made from cookie dough was a gift from my ex-husband (after we had separated but remained friends). He found it in Greenwich Village and we both thought it was hilarious. I still smile when I look at it. Thanks to Facebook, I know that he now has grandchildren to share his Christmases.

A Norman Rockwell ball reminds me of my coworker, Jo-Ann, who moved to California with her husband. In the cards we used to exchange, she wrote she thought of me when she hung the dough ornaments I’d made for her. We recently reconnected through Facebook, too, and are exchanging holiday letters again.

My long-term (but no longer) significant other was my lighting, star-on-the-top and tree disposal specialist. On one of our vacation trips, we drove from Switzerland to Austria and passed up lunch to avoid having to change currency in Liechtenstein. Upon arriving in Austria we discovered we’d lost an hour due to an unexpected time-zone change. I had just enough time to score a few purchases before the stores closed. So, the wax ornaments from Innsbruck are mine only because of a skipped lunch.

A tiny clay wreath with a bright red bow was a gift from my niece, Pam. She made it herself when she was a child. She’s married now, with a daughter and tree of her own. I’ll probably return the wreath to her someday, but I’m not ready to part with it yet.

I have nine silver snowflakes that my father ordered from the Metropolitan Museum, one for every year from 1976 thru 1984. They ended the Christmas after he died of cancer. It’s still painful to touch those snowflakes every January, but it’s as though I’m still touching a small piece of him, too.

As I carefully wrap each ornament in tissue, I savor these recollections. The happy and the sad. The recent and those from the dim past. I think ahead to next trim, wondering what theme I’ll decide upon and what memories will be created. But mostly I look forward to the next year’s untrimming and renewing the memories I already treasure.

Retirement Realities—Losing Friends

Several times over the past few days I’ve sat down with the intention of working on this week’s post. Each time my thought process was sidetracked by the reality that one of my most devoted followers will no longer be out there to read my blog. I decided to dedicate this post to him.

I first met H. Peter Olsen, III when I began working as the Executive Director for a nonprofit about five years ago. He was one of about thirty board members and it was clear from the start that we would become friends.

Peter and I had both spent much of our careers working at large companies—he at a prestigious law firm, I at a Fortune 500 corporation. We looked at philanthropy as serious business, but we didn’t take ourselves too seriously. At his funeral service last week, the priest referred to Peter’s sage advice and his wit, qualities that I especially appreciated.

Even after I retired, we stayed in contact, mostly through email. When I decided to publish my first year of RetirementSparks posts, I realized that I would need some extra eyes to proof the pages. Peter was one of a handful of friends that I contacted and he readily agreed to help. He actually seemed honored that I had asked him.

Peter had retired shortly before I did. He was dealing with some serious health issues, but he was doing remarkably well. In an ironic twist of fate, it was an accident—a fall—that led to his untimely passing.

This sad event brought me full circle to what led me to blog in the first place. My dear friend Sheryl died unexpectedly about three years ago. Her death made me realize that we never know when the moving finger of fate will write our name in the sand. I decided to retire as soon as the numbers made sense, which was shortly after I was eligible for Medicare.

My secret ambition had always been to be a writer. The absurdity of the Medicare paperwork and process were the impetus to start blogging. The rest, as they say, is history.

Thank you for allowing me this indulgence of remembering not just one, but two dear friends who have gone on before us. If you’re out there trying to decide if it’s time for you to retire, I offer this advice. If you can do it, you should do it.

None of us knows how long we’ll have to pursue our passions, to chase our dreams. In the movies and on Broadway, there’s always tomorrow, just a day away. In real life, sadly, we can never be sure.