Social media is a permanent fixture in today’s world. We are a Twitter with Instagram, Pinterest and Facebook. I’m told that you can identify a generation by the media it prefers. Old timers, such as myself, prefer Facebook. Generation X is into Twitter, and Millennials are fans of Instagram.
Some people celebrate social media. Others despise it. Some like the instant connection, while others curse the sometimes intrusive nature of instant connectivity. No matter where one may stand on the issue, it’s here to stay and will only broaden its impact.
What you may be surprised to learn is social media has its origin in the fall of 1959. I was a twelve year old seventh grader who was still involved in the boy scouts. Our scout meetings were held in the early evening at an elementary school building within walking distance of our house. I was a regular attendee and enjoyed the freedom to step out on my own during the evening even if it was to the comfortable confines of a scout meeting.
One evening when two friends and I arrived at school for the meeting, there was a note posted on the door indicating it had been canceled. This posed an opportunity and a dilemma. Should we call it a night and head back home, or should we seize the moment and set out on a ninety minute adventure. We chose the latter.
I was in love with Donna and she lived about twenty minutes away. My friends and I decided that we could walk to her house, have a thirty minute rendezvous, and still be back before anyone knew of our actual location. A perfect plan. Once executed, I expected that it would play out as one of the great love stories of our generation. We’d become the talking sensation of Clara Barton Junior High.
The walk over went well. We covered the distance within our allotted estimate. Donna was surprised to see us and we spoke through the open side window of her living room. She was in charge of the house, and her younger sister, for the evening. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house and visitors entering the house was forbidden. We were fine with that. All true love must work through life’s pitfalls.
Our meeting was brief. Looking back it was not much more than hello and good-bye. The boys and I were nervous about being far off of our approved path, and Donna was concerned her mother might not approve of our visit. We were on our way home and going to return long before anyone knew we had ventured off on our own. We were about half way home when things suddenly changed, and my life was altered in a way I wouldn’t recover from for over fifty years.
As we walked down a neighborhood street, a car slowly pulled along side of us and stopped. The driver opened the car door and asked if we’d like a ride. The driver was my mom. Busted. We spoke not a word, but went straight to our work. (reminds me of a poem I’ve read) We all climbed in the back seat, silent for the entire ten minute drive. Mom dropped off one guy, then a second, leaving me alone. The silent ride continued. When we arrived home the conversation was short and one sided. I was grounded for a month. Grounded meant no Friday night dances at Clara Barton Junior High. I asked mom how she knew what had happened. There was no reply.
That question remained unanswered for over fifty years. I would raise the topic about once a decade, but pleas for an explanation fell on deaf ears. I speculated often, but I learned nothing.
One day, when I was well into my sixth decade, my mother relented and decided that it was time to tell the truth. It seems that when the boys and I were outside Donna’s living room window, one of the boys called me by name. Donna’s neighbor heard the name, knew Donna’s mother was at work, and called her to alert her of the group of young suitors who were outside of her house. Donna’s mother located our name in the telephone book, called my mom, and asked if she knew where her son was. When Mom told her I was at school attending a scout meeting, Donna’s mom corrected her and told her I was several blocks away at her house. Mom thanked her for the information, hopped into the family car and drove the neighborhood streets until she found us.
And that my friends was the beginning of social media. Donna’s mom’s friend calling Donna’s mom who in turn called my mom. No tweets, no posts, no FaceTime, no understanding of red blooded American youth. # four inch thick telephone book #landline #mothers against young love #who told? #busted