I have Snapchat,
but I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with it. I also have Tumbler,
but I have never posted anything to it. I do not know the passwords to either
one of them. If something goes haywire with my phone, I would not know how to
access them.
I guess I just
don’t understand them enough to use them. Tumbler is like a blog, or so I am
told. I see people post pictures there, sometimes with words. It looks very
random. I’m not sure whether it’s interactive, not that it would matter. I
wouldn’t know how to interact with fellow Tumblers anyway.
Snapchat is
intriguing. It is a video blog or mobile scrapbook, except the scrapbook is
destroyed 24 hours after you start it. I have a few Snapchat connections. Is
that what you call them? Are they friends? Likers? Followers? I honestly don’t
know. Some of these people are very clever. They use Snapchat to create mini
video stories of an event, day or mood. I can’t figure out why I would want to
take the time to chronicle a moment or event of my life in a creative way and
have it available for only 24 hours.
These stories are
impermanent, temporal. Some of them really do tell a story. Some don’t make any
sense at all. I see a shadow with a number, or a dog. There are lots of dogs. I
took a picture of one of my dogs to share on Snapchat, but I couldn’t remember
what you were supposed to do once you took the picture. It is entirely possible
that I chatted it and didn’t know it.
Now that I think
about it, Snapchat isn’t that different than my old job in daily newspaper.
Reporters and editors spend hours crafting, fighting and editing news stories
and features, choosing nuanced phrases, imagery and the perfect 25 words or
less lede to get the readers’ attention. A day later that work is old news, and
the paper it is printed on becomes kindling, birdcage liner or fish wrap.
In high school we
studied a poem called Ozymandias. It
was about man’s attempts to be immortal. If he cannot live forever, he will seek
to leave something behind that will cause others to remember him.
I don’t see much
concern about legacy or immorality these days. The emphasis is on instant acceptance,
immediate popularity and fame. I’m guilty of it myself. I post a picture on
Instagram and check back regularly for likes. I tweet something I believe is
clever and enable notifications, just in case 100 other people also think it’s
clever. I don’t think that’s ever happened.
I’m not sure what
this generational difference means. What does it say about baby boomers like me
that we are concerned with legacy? Why do Millennials and the iGeneration desire instant
gratification? I’m sure it has something to do with microwaves, fast food and
fiber optics as well as classic TV, cars made out of real metal and retirement
plans.
It’s kind of sad,
really. There won’t be old home movies, photo albums or old recordings for my
kids to play for their grandchildren. Nostalgia will live in the mind, but have
no tangible connection to the past. The keepsakes that I cherish may end up in
the garbage can after I’m gone from this world.
On the other
hand, it’s encouraging. My kids are not weighed down by sentimental
possessions or worthless trinkets. They understand that real treasure cannot be
destroyed by moths or rust. They know that relationships and eternity are what really matter. They don’t take tomorrow for granted, so they Snapchat
today and hope for a new story tomorrow.
All in all, that’s
not a bad way to live.
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