While I am by no means a prolific or efficient social networker, I do on occasion dabble in the genre. And I have to confess to having never in my life Tweeted, Flickr'd or Beboed- I am somewhat intimidated by the seeming complexities inherent in navigating such netscapes. Am I succumbing to a generational gap that renders me a numbskull when it comes to the latest technology? Am I just stupidly stubborn? I really prefer not to think so. My dear parents, both of whom were pretty clever and competent individuals, never even attempted to venture into the world of personal computers, nor did they fret about not being web-savvy. But Mom possessed the letter-writing gene, and I always began to worry if I didn't get my weekly communique, complete with print media clippings and obituary news regarding friends or relatives of whom I had little to no recollection. And they were always a sweet reminder that she loved me.
I can today equate those messages from Mom to the phenomena of Facebook and the like- akin to letters from home on steroids. So what if it takes the patience of Job to sort through the multitude of messages, wall posts, tweaks, twits, and pokes to get to the stuff one really cares about. I do appreciate the concept of being connected to folks as never before, despite the potential for superficiality. I saw a car advertisment last night in which a young lady was sitting at her laptop bemoaning her parents' lack of social activity, as the camera shifted to her folks, out off-roading with their pals in their new fuel-efficient hybrid 4WD. "They only have, like, nineteen friends online........", while the girl herself proclaimed proudly six-hundred and fourty-three. "Now this is living!" she typed, from the solitude of her bedroom. So there are surely two sides to the story- both the shining example as well as the dire warning.
One of the positive effects of all this connectivity is the prolific exchange of creative concepts. (You see, despite the sensational nature of today's post title, I always intended to get around to the meat of the matter. But I'll bet it caught your eye. Hmmm. No-brainer, that- or you wouldn't be reading this.) Whenever I am clueless about topics for my blog, design ideas, or architectural inspiration, there are abundant online venues I can visit to get unstuck. Sometimes, out of the ether pops a serendipitous message that just happens to address a void in my so-called mind. (This happens at an alarmingly increasing rate, as I get older and the voids begin to outnumber the occupied spaces.)
I have yet to post much about the sandcastle I was commissioned to execute for my second cousin Jennifer's wedding a few weeks ago. (To clarify- she's the niece of my first cousin Clint. I think that makes her a second cousin, although cousinly niece, or niece-per-cousin would seem to me a more fitting and descriptive appelation, but they never asked me....) Jennifer and Adam (who is now my nephew-per-cousin-in-law, I guess) were to be married right on the beach at Cape San Blas, Florida, and my charge was to provide a fitting backdrop for the affair. Anyway, on accepting the secret commission from Jennifer's mom Beverly, I immediately enlisted the aid of cousin Clint (my virtual second brother) and his nephew Harrison, a strapping college man who we figured we could entice with beer and promises of virile male wisdom, into digging up a vast pile of required sand. As it turned out, cousin-in-law Paul, the father of the bride, had already quite generousl provided that no one would go without whatever cold alcoholic refreshment could possibly be imagined, and Harrison, as it turned out, proved quite capable on his own of exercising his manly options. Still, he responded quite willingly to our requests for youthful muscle, and even contributed very creatively to the carving.
We were also extremely pleased to enlist the aid of our musical entertainer for the weekend, Muriel Anderson. My aunt Helen had fallen in love with Muriel's music when she saw her at Clint's venue, The Americana Stage, in Morganton NC, nearby to the old family home in Connelly Springs, where Helen still lives. When Beverly began to think about music for the wedding, Helen enthusiastically recommended Muriel, and so it came to be. Muriel, as it turned out, had some experience with sand-castle carving out on Montauk, Long Island, and so contributed her fair share. I knew, too, that she had written a song about sand castles, but was surprised and quite pleased when a couple of weeks later she sent around this video ( Download Sandcastle ) about our little endeavor, set to the music of her song "Castles in the Sand". From the song: "To live is to build a beautiful thing." Certainly something to strive for. (PS- I have never tried to embed a video in my blog, and this one seems to take a few minutes to download, so be patient- I am probably providing yet more evidence of my IT ineptitude).
