Reconnecting with old friends on facebook has been fun. My cousins told me I would find everyone I went to school and church with. I was skeptical. After all I graduated with a class of 650, versus the 100 my kids graduate with. My church had the same number of people as the town I live in. I didn’t think there was any way with the way people scatter and our age I would ever see any of them again.
I found quite a few, in time I believe I will find hundreds of people from my past. Seeing pictures and videos from when you are fifteen has a wonderful feeling. The past I experienced is not a black and white photo in a box, it is part of the world preserved by friends who figured out how to make it special and last for a bit longer.
All I can tell is once I found one person everyone else popped up. One by one I found people that I knew decades ago. Most of the women look almost the same. The gorgeous ones are still breathtaking. The men have a tendency to change the most, mostly because of the lack of hair. But there is something magical about a person’s eyes and you see the young man of years gone by.
I only got on facebook because my cousins told me to, they talk often and we are not getting any younger. My son told me they were begging to speak with me. At first I was worried sick about what I said. Now I see how many are on it, I am who I am and the reality is it is only as scary as you allow it to be.
That being said I am middle-aged. I post when I get time, and only if I want to. So many friends begged me to get a facebook and sent me links but I just didn’t think I would like it. Yesterday when I found videos and songtracks of my young I was hooked.
That and the page that honored my 8th grade English Teacher, who would be horrified at my lack of focus on verb conjugation on my blog. I wish I had her curriculm, apparently others do to. Her stuff is no longer taught in school, and our written word is suffering greatly by not having her type of English teacher. Language Arts is not what she talk, it was English starting with the breaking down of each and every sentence. It was during her class I realized how little I paid attention to detail of what I wrote. She did change my life, and I don’t know where she is.
For those of you that know I am a Central Texas Gal, all Fort Hood discussion will be on my other two blogs. I want to keep this blog free of the pain of this situation.
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