It's Been A Year

It's been a year since I received the call at work that Grandma fell and was taken to the hospital.  They don't tell you over the phone someone died.  It's smart to do that so you're not racing down 270 with tears streaming down your face. 

Somehow, though, I knew.  I picked up my husband and he drove.  We sat in silence for nearly an hour to get to the hospital.

And it all made sense.  Not all deaths make sense, but some do.  Her timing, her passing, all seemed pre-orchestrated by a woman who scheduled and managed every last detail in her life.  She didn't sit well with disorganization.  A pattern, a path, a place for everything.  Always.

My mom had just left town the day before - Grandma would not leave with Mom sitting next to her.  And my mom wasn't on one of her regular jaunts across the country with friends.  No, this time she was visiting with her cousins, girls that were practically sisters to her, the daughters of Grandma's younger sister.  It made sense.  So that when I had to make the dreadful call, she was with the women who knew her best and she wouldn't have to keep a stoic facade.  She could break down then and there with the best safety net possible.

They escorted her home and shielded her as we went through the motions of planning a funeral.  Of course little planning was necessary.  My mom is also a master planner and had the funeral home, cemetery, plot, urn, flowers all picked out.  Just roll out the folder compiled years earlier and add a few finishing touches.

I love that I got to sift through Grandma's pictures years ago.  I've scanned them and most of my favorites are from before my mother's birth.  But today, I think I will share the pictures that reside in my memory, the way I remember Grandma - a silver haired stinker.

Social Networking - Female Style

(WARNING - RLP - REALLY LONG POST - SORRY)



It happened in 2001.  I was at  Girl Scout camp with my daughter for a Mother-Daughter retreat with about 50 other mother-daughter duos.  Another mom was propped up against the wall, jiggling in silent laughter, tears rolling down her face.

She was reading Jill Conner-Browne's, The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love.  Days later I had an order sent off to Amazon for my own copy.  Soon I was also jiggling in silent laughter, tears rolling down my face.  The woman was truly funny.  She had a second book out, God Bless The Sweet Potato Queens.  It didn't seem possible, but I laughed even harder.

Jill offered exactly what this brand new divorcee needed - humor, perspective and a sense that I was not alone.

I'm not sure what prompted me to look her up online.  I'm not the kind of person who researches products.  I don't sign up for contests.  I don't go poking around.  But this time I did and I never left.

She had a messageboard.  For many a messageboard sounds so... lame?  I've used messageboards before working on my genealogy research.  They've been a Godsend of information in that sense.  But to discuss a book?  To chat?

I was one of the early members of her messageboard.  I would check in every few days and membership would constantly increase.  We left funny quips about our lives, finding similarity in what Jill had written.

Soon it was no longer about the books or Jill.  We grew bigger than just a messageboard of fans, we became a community.  I won't dare speak for Jill, but I think she loved this fact, knowing she brought so many wonderful people together.

People came from all corners.  Some by accident, some by word of mouth.  We crashed multiple servers with our chatter and attracted more than a few trolls.  We were mostly women but an occasional man would join in the fun, or attempt to.  Within a matter of years we numbered over 1,000 members.

Our treasured messageboard was closed down in June 2006.  One troll too many had shit in our playground and Jill was done playing babysitter.  We went underground.  We now have a private board with about 100 active members.

I've often been asked why we have a messageboard, what's wrong with a simple chat room?  A chat room is much like a telephone where the participants have to be present at the same time.  A messageboard allows you to post a question, respond to another and then dash off to feed the baby, grab a load of laundry, call your mom, and watch an episode of Oprah.  This is the only way mature women could possibly communicate.

I have marveled at this community more than once.  I knew we were an advertiser's wet dream.  The way we would introduce a new product and everyone would flock to try it, this was something marketers would give eyeteeth for.  We are the most elusive of demographics as most of us are busy being moms and housewives and full-time employees.  It's sort of hard to capture us at any one spot, we're not known for sitting still for very long.  If a commercial comes on in the middle of our favorite program that's when we dash to the dryer for another load to fold.  If something falls out of our favorite magazine it's set to the side for when we have a few seconds, only to be picked up months or years later after the expiration date or the item out of production.  We just don't have time to learn about new products, to toss money at something new only to find it doesn't measure up.  We find what works and keep with it.  That's a tough nut to crack for the old men of the business world. 

Then I read one post of someone raving about Trader Joe's guacamole and BAM, suddenly, like little sheep, everyone is flocking to Trader Joe's emptying the shelves of guacamole.  The TJ's guys are wondering what the hell just happened.  No advertisements, no coupons, no pimply teenager in an avocado costume standing in front of the store, no matronly woman offering samples, and yet the product is instantly selling like hotcakes.  What the hell is up?  What changed?

Word of mouth is what happened.  Word of mouth from a reliable source to a nationwide audience.  Seriously, what business exec wouldn't KILL for that type of reach?

But it's more than promoting products.  We are a true community.  We've done the unmentionable and actually gone out to meet each other in person.  You know, the thing everyone warns is super dangerous?  Yeah, we've done that.  *I* have done that.  I have driven to Indianapolis and spent the weekend in the home of a woman I had only known through the internet.  I did the same thing a few years later in Lawrence, Kansas, but this time I had previously met the women.  I've also driven to Chicago for lunch, just for the afternoon and back home, again to meet up with absolute strangers.  We are friends in the truest sense.  We gather around in times of pain, send off blankets to new mothers, chat about goofy husbands and irritating children and whine about miserable work conditions.  We talk about everything.  Just like we do with our 3D girlfriends.  And for some reason this stumps men, as if we were speaking in code.

So last year when one board member begged the rest of us to help her out with her Fashion Wars posse on Facebook, we flocked over there like crazy, myself included.  It didn't take much to coerce me as my daughter insisted that I needed to join so we could easily share pictures.  My employer also wanted me, the IT goddess, to check out the social networking hub-bub.  So sign up I did.  We played the games, found former classmates, and found a new way to keep up with each other's day to day lives.  Our messageboard activity has plummeted.  It still exists, but not like it did for so many years. 

Facebook has quickly taken over and we continue to use it in the same manner - posting about every day life, discussing new products and just old fashioned playing.  Executives everywhere are flabbergasted at its popularity.  They cannot believe they've finally found a medium that appeals to the mothers of the world.  Now they're trying to harness it. 

I have a sneaking suspicion they're going to screw it up.  Women don't like being manipulated.  We don't have time for bullshit, we have plenty of it in our real lives.