Journey Through The Past...

Excuse me, Neil, for borrowing your song title. As I try to sort out the personal utility of Facebook, your lyrics keep playing through my head. I must admit that I already miss my elitist sense of righteousness over avoiding dabbling in the wide, wide, world of electronic communication - at least, with its non-email variants. I mean, let's face it. As I said previously if I haven't heard from someone in forty years or so, and haven't bothered to contact that same someone myself, why do either of us give a rat's ass about getting in touch now? Is it because we're having Ratso Rizzo moments, only instead of "Im walkin here" the message is "Im dyin here?" Of course, that explanation doesn't explain the exuberant embrace of Facebook by the younger generations, although I am convinced that if they ever find out about farting and tap dancing as a means of communication they will have to try that too, just because they are able to. (I seem to have the farting part down, but the tap dancing is out of the question.)

I must admit, though, that as names (and faces, aged gracefully, save for my own) emerge from the past, my interest is piqued. However, I find that I am less curious to know about their road travelled than I am in my own reflections upon the effect that their lives had upon mine. I am surprised, actually, to find that I remember so many fine details - most of them very positive, a few somewhat sad. And I suppose that when all is said and done, what we are really asking of each other as we look back over our lives is this:

Was it good for you?