Social Strategies

Rule number one of Social Media: People first, tools second.

Can You Build Meaningful Relationships With Social Media?

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What a loaded question that has become! It’s one that came up for me recently when someone declared to me, very adamantly, that you cannot.

When I ask people what they get out of their social media, the answers usually go something like this: “I have reconnected with people I haven’t seen in years, and it’s great to do that and see pictures of their kids.” Other answers include:  “I only check in occasionally” and “I’m not on Facebook, I don’t have time.”

Fair enough. There is no one-size-fits-all formula for social media, and you’re not going to hear me proclaim, as many do, that everyone should be there. It’s a matter of taste and preference as to what sites you use, or whether you are there at all. That said, here are a few answers – always delivered in a patronizing tone – that make me want to scream: “Well, I don’t like it because it’s flat and one dimensional.” or “It’s a waste of time”  and the ultimate eyeroller: “I want to focus on real life meaningful relationships.”

As for the “flat and one dimensional” characterization, I see that. But can’t that be said about any written communication? That some types of communication are more meaningful and should be done in person, or at least over the telephone, where you can  look into someones’ eyes and hear voice inflection, is a given. But that doesn’t mean written communication can’t pack a punch and carry great depth and meaning. Think of all the relationships that started by written communication. Or those sustained during wars by letters. How about that cherished letter from Grandma, tattered and frayed by repeated reading because it means so much? The written word has long been a tie that binds when people are separated by time and distance. Today, it just occurs electronically more often than by parcel post. Ah, technology.

I’d argue that it is our communication with people in its’ many forms, and taken as a whole, that enables us to develop meaningful relationships with them. As for the arguments that one can get too isolated by social media and that it is no substitute for physically being with people, or that people can misunderstand or be misunderstood due to its flat nature, I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve been misunderstood more than once. I’ve also been very fortunate to sustain relationships, as well meet people through social media that I later met in person. In some cases, that has led to real life encounters and true friendships, business relationships, or both. At the heart of of these relationships is three core components: Trust, respect, and the fact that I like them. In some cases communication has not, as yet, progressed far beyond the online world. I still have a good rapport and common interests with these people – and that’s fine. ‘Meaningful’ has many layers, and I am happy to partake in all of them.

Now you know my position; I’d like to hear yours:  Can you build meaningful relationships through social media?  What has your experience been?  What are your challenges? Rewards?

Thoughts on My Father

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They’re hazy, for the most part – the watercolor memories I have of my Dad.

A few details stand out: He was of average height, sallow skin tone, moderately pitched voice and a handsomely chiseled face. From my earliest memories, he had curvature of the spine. I even remember wonder-ing how all the other Dads stood up so straight and tall when my Dad didn’t.  I learned he was that way from an injury sustained during World War II. Dad served on a tanker ship in the Pacific Theatre.  A swiveling cannon hit him in the back one day on that ship, and he became a disabled veteran with an honorable discharge. He went on to the Citadel. I still have The Ring, it’s sharpened edges softened by time. He met my Mom through mutual friends when she was a coed at the College of Charleston.

There were a couple of other unusual things about my Dad, and indeed, my childhood. Dad didn’t work outside the home. While many of my neighborhood friends had their moms at  home, we had Dad. And a maid who looked after him, us, and the house, while my Mom worked. It was quite the novelty, and held great fascination for friends on our street. He took us places, taught us things, made us laugh, schooled us about world events. He had a firm disciplinary hand – disrespect was not tolerated and he kept us in line. When he wasn’t doing these things, he seemed to rest – a lot. There was noticeable tension within his face. The glass beside his easy chair late in the day and early evenings often held a dark golden beverage. My older brother and I were told it eased chronic pain – pain that he lived with from my earliest memories. But I never heard him complain about it – not once.

A few more years passed. Dad spent considerable time in and out of hospitals. We moved to a bigger house, and my maternal grandmother came a lot. He went into the hospital one last time in April of 1972, and never came home.

Today is the very first time I have ever put fingers to keyboard about my Dad. As the years have passed and the memories faded, I’ve struggled to pinpoint just how he influenced, and continues to influence, my life. My time with him was too short. I wish he’d been here to see me graduate college. Walk me down the aisle. Kiss his grandchildren. Share an adult conversation. Is he proud of me? My life? I hope so.

Perhaps I’ll never entirely figure any of these things out. I’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. All that matters, really, is that he was my Dad – and that’s enough.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

 


Is Life Fair – Even When It Isn’t?

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Life is not fair.

How many times did we hear that growing up? I can still hear my mother admonishing me to accept this as fact every time something in my universe went awry – whenever an event unfolded that held no apparent remedy, or no other explanation that would fit over the long term, except that one. Even now, and hopefully much wiser and circumspect about life’s twists and turns, I still cringe at these words whenever I hear them. There’s still a part of my brain unwilling to accept this mantra as a universal truth over which I – we – have no control. More often than not, the thought that comes to mind is: “Life may not be fair, but people should be.” Because let’s face it: Barring random accidents or illness, when something unfair happens to us, it usually involves other people who have hurt us in some way.

I guess part of my reaction to the notion that life isn’t fair stems from my own strong sense of fair play and justice. On some idyllic level, I believe that many, if not most, of life’s unfair events can be prevented or remedied; few things get me more fired up than stories of people being treated unfairly. In the workplace. In relationships. Yet at the same time, I know we can’t control how others treat us, and that people have different perceptions of what “fair” means. If everyone could agree on that one concept alone, what a different world we would inhabit!  I’m forced to acknowledge – albeit reluctantly – that even in cases of being wronged, the idea that life is not fair, fits. It can even bring a certain peace to the equation.

And so, with each unfair event life hands me, I’m still learning to reframe. Redefine. That my father died when I was nine? An early lesson on the fragility of life.  The friends who betray me? Continuing Ed to choose friends more wisely. The jobs lost through layoff or other circumstances? Opportunities to learn, grow, and be a better boss and person. Unfortunate random occurrences that defy rational explanation? Resilience and a sense of humor.

Could it be, then, that the most unfair – and even cruel -  of life’s events and circumstances  hold more promise and opportunity than we dare to believe?  Is life therefore  fair – perhaps more than fair – even when it isn’t? What do you think?