America Peals

I thought on this dreary overcast day I would pen a little bit about my social media origins. First, my mom, Reenie, still calls FaceBook, FacePage. She can not understand why ANYONE would purchase a phone (I presume the iPhone) to “watch my 60 year old friends do cartwheels at the beach.” Mom’s understanding of social media is approximately that of Dennis Leary and his crafty Hulu commercial.

That being said I learned about social media over the past ten years from my grandmother.

My grandmother, Mimi, is 82 years old and lives on Cape Cod with my grandfather. She raised a family of eight children. She watched both of her brothers pass decades ago. And, until the early nineties, she was the primary caregiver for my great-grandmother who suffered profoundly from Alzheimers. Watching her mother devolve from a sassy seamstress from Brooklyn to a paranoid, fragile stranger, ennervated my grandmother.

Enter stage left, a desk top computer from Mimi’s children. Mimi could not be distracted from this wonderous invention. She was writing poems again, writing emails and completely engaged in a newer, bigger world. As a woman who always regretted not going to college and becoming a reporter, she was exuberant about this tool. We set it up by a window where she could monitor Joshua’s Pond and any anti-wetland’s activity. (She is the uber-environmentalist. Ask her about kettle ponds.)

It became a running joke in our family to call Mimi when you had a computer problem. She had taken apart her hardrive early on and fixed problems that Dell couldn’t quite manage on the phone. She currently runs a private Yahoo group for her immediate children (and grandkids) to post pictures, send messages and share recipes.

Yet, no one saw this coming in 1997. Mimi began to join writer’s chat rooms. Poetry chat rooms. Every Sunday night the family knew not to call her because her modem would be in full swing. Mimi, in her 70’s at this point, was developing relationships and friendships many of which she still has today. Mimi did not give her name to these online poetry friends but she gave them her poetry. For the next decade, Mimi hopped on-line and listened, wrote, critiqued and eventually published a book of poetry. There were also a few awards in there as well.

My grandmother and I communicate a lot by phone and email. She is on Skype frequently. She likes to check in on my bulldog Shakespeare (he has a fickle skin condition) and see what new antiques I may have purchased.

But, mostly we talk about words. I listen to her poetry, give her feedback and in turn she asks me lots of questions about New York and technology.

A few months ago, I received an email from Mimi asking me how to Bcc someone. I called her immediately. “Mimi, who do you need to blind carbon copy?!?” She giggled. She replied, “Just tell me how to do it, America.”

So when people mumble about social media having no discernible ROI, I mention my grandmother. She leads a vibrant, meaningful life filled poetry, wetland protests and local senior’s pilates classes.

Mimi recently had cataract surgery. I called her when she was out. My uncle picked up the phone and said that she was sleeping. I jokingly told him to not let her near the computer for the day. He replied, “Too late.”