FACEBOOK: THE WORST DINNER PARTY EVER

 

“My computer died!” 

 

That was the first post in my Facebook feed this morning. It is a post I see, not infrequently, along with deaths of pets and, of course, humans. Evidently, the geniuses  out in Mountain View, California (or their computers) have determined that I have an intense interest in death. The likely reason: deaths of beloved humans always provoke a comment from me. Their  alogorythm is a blunt instrument, so I end up learning about deaths of all kinds. I even feel compelled to respond, at least with an emoji.

 

Facebook has always been a strange and somewhat mysterious world, certainly a very odd dinner party. But since the pandemic, I have come to think of it as the worst dinner party ever.

 

So there you are, seated between people you know and love and some you have never met. Some people never stop talking. But they don’t seem very interested in what anyone else is saying. If someone else says something, they just ignore it. But when they have something to say, they just blurt it out.

 

And then there is this. The person across from you is describing the fabulous vacation they just went on, oblivious to the fact that you have not left your neighborhood for six months. A few seats away, someone is showing pictures of their adorable grand children to a woman who never had children, but desperately wanted them.

 

None of this mattered all that much back before March. Then, we were still going to real parties where people behaved appropriately. Or else we stopped going to those parties.

 

The thing is, I participate of my own free will in this awful affair. I am an extrovert, the child of two extroverts, and I am finding this enforced introverted life challenging. It is hard for me, with no actual social engagements on the calendar, to give up this on-line social world. In fact, I post and check more often than before the pandemic.

 

Speaking of the pandemic, there is a lot of judgment going on these days, and Facebook is a great place to let it roll. Why doesn’t that person stop whining about being lonely and just  go to a socially distanced visit? And why is that other person not wearing a mask in that picture?  Those of us familiar with Jewish law, are very used to this phenomenon. Anyone who is following the rules more strictly than you clearly has undiagnosed obsessive.  compulsive disorder. Anyone doing less is irresponsible or lazy—a heretic.

 

True confessions: While I have not been on any vacations to post,  I will confess to having shared a picture of my grandsons, albeit from the back, while carefully noting that I only see them from ten feet away. I am fully aware of how strange a gathering this is. But I stay.

 

 

I tell myself it is because I want to know what my friends are thinking about events in the world. What articles they are reading to inform their views? .I used to think  of it as my clipping service,  But  the truth is that I can predict what my friends are thinking these days. It is not hard. I can guess what they are reading, as I am reading most of it myself. And it is all pretty sobering, if not scary. And when one of my friends, or more likely one of their friends who appears in their comments(thereby sneaking into the party uninvited ), says something radically different about the most existentially important political moment of our lives, it just makes me furious.

 

Sometimes I think about leaving altogether. But then something pulls me back. I ask for help with a sleep problem, and over a hundred caring souls offer advice. My sleep is no better, but I now know that I am not alone. Or I comment on a post and someone “hearts” the comment, a former student I have not seen in years whom I love. A ping of oxycontin straight to my brain. A cousin, with whom I am hardly in touch, shares important news about their life. And, of course, I do want to respond with at least a comment—and often a note-- to the loss of human beings. So I stay.

 

But aware of all the negative traits I both reveal and provoke in others, how do I respond with my better self?

 

What would (fill in the blank with your ethical mentor) do?