On the one hand, I like to think that I have a close relationship with my mom. Loving, even. But: Facebook friendship makes one privy to all sorts of salacious life details that, frankly, I'd rather not have to explain to Janet Bishop. Not that my Facebook photo albums show me galivanting around the nightclubs of Chicago wearing the skimpiest of clothing. (Yes, Sarah, I've seen the photos.) Siblings on Facebook create their own unique challenges, a fact that I recently learned when my sister Julie sent me a friend request. There, the benefits of seeing photo albums of our baby niece Claire far outweighed any potential embarrassments resulting from adding Julie as a friend.
On the Times post, blogger Lisa Belkin pinpoints a fundamental tension with letting your parents into your Facebook world:
Is it a diary? (Something that parents shouldn’t read, except for when maybe they should?) Or a conversation with friends in the living room? (Open to anyone standing nearby?)
Kids themselves don’t seem to agree. Many of my friends have children who happily “friend” them — and me. My 16-year-old niece, in turn, pretends she has friended me, and doesn’t think I know that she has barred me from some of the more interesting parts of her Facebook.
And my own sons? The older one has blocked me and I haven’t even bothered to friend the younger one. Let them have their private clubhouse. Because what I have learned from my own time on Facebook is that there is nothing terribly private about the place at all. When everything you do is being broadcast to hundreds of acquaintances, secrets wont stay deep or dark for long.
Sarah, I hope you're reading this. Although like you, I'm thankful that Mom and Dad haven't yet realized that setting up a Facebook account is so easy,
even centegenarians can do it.
P.S. Can we appreciate the fact that Mrs. Belkin refers to her niece's profile as "her Facebook?" Oh, adults. Even when you get it, you don't get it.
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