With the arrival of social networking sites, such as Facebook, we can now indulge in our own version of "Where are they now?" Maybe you have played this game. After you sign up with Facebook, chase down immediate friends, relatives, neighbors, whoever--eventually you get to the point where you wonder "who else can I friend?" (Sorry, it annoys me as much as you that we have converted yet ANOTHER noun into a verb! After all, isn't "befriend" a perfectly good verb? Yet FB insists on "friend" as the verb form...but I digress.)
I love the graph below suggesting who finds YOU on Facebook. Thus far that has not been my experience. I have, however, had the experience of befriending someone who later, summarily "unfriended" me. And, truth be told, I have done the same thing. After all, no need to be subjected to reading updates about things which matter not on whit to me.
If you like the above graph, you can find more at GraphJam.com.
Recently, one of my Blogger friends, AC, hauled out a third grade photo, and had his readers guessing which cherub was him. That post engendered another, as he found a second grade photo as well.
That got me to musing...I know somewhere I have a fourth grade photo. So I hauled it out. I have only one such school photo. Most of my elementary school days were spent in government run schools in then Rhodesia. I don't think they took class photos there. At any rate, in the mid-1950s, my parents returned to the U.S. for a furlough (extended vacation time).
Time enough for me to go to part of third grade and fourth grade at the Shepherdstown Elementary School. My teachers were Mr. Meyers and Mr. Ryder. How unusual then to have had two men as grade school teachers. Looking at the photo, I have distinct recollections of most of the students. One girl, standing right next to me, was named Ginny.
I suspect every class has someone like her. You see, her problem was cleanliness. Or rather lack thereof. She came to school day after day, frequently in repeat clothing. Her hair was dishevelled, her face unwashed. And her body odor was painfully rank. Poor girl. No--really. POOR girl. I don't know who cared for her, if anyone. No one in class would tell her she needed to bathe, and use deodorant. We all steered clear as much as we could.
By the time my family returned to the U.S. in the 1960s, and I finished high school, returning to the same school system, many of those third grade classmates were still there. But not Ginny.
Well, Facebook hasn't revealed any Ginnys to me. I do not recall her family name at all. And, yes, there are times when I wonder "Where is she now?"