I wind up following the lives of strangers with an intensity that might brand me as a stalker.
Did Shirley find a good brisket recipe? How is Lawrence doing with the diet? What went wrong with Rhona's matzo balls? She thought they were handled too much, but Phyllis said they might not have cooked long enough.
Maybe I'm just incurably nosy. I'll spend hours poking around others' profiles, studying their friends' status postings.
And I see why kids want their parents off Facebook, as I try to fit my old conscience to this new era:
When my daughter's 19-year-old friend posted a list of her favorite drinking games -- flippy cup, beer pong, drunk ball, Ride the Bus, King -- I had an urge to pick up the phone and call her mother.
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In two months, I've collected 326 Facebook friends. Most I wouldn't recognize if they showed up wearing a name tag at my door. I've tracked down two old friends from my past, but we have yet to even chat. It seems being in touch online is enough.
Or is it?
On Saturday, at The Times Book Festival, I discovered three old friends in two hours, while I was on stage with my oldest daughter, doing a tag-team chat about my column.
A woman up front took the mike for a question and when I heard her voice, I knew it was Iris. Our daughters had gone to school together, but we lost touch when they graduated. Then, in the audience, I spotted Audrey; we were high school cheerleaders together. She was with her mother, Mrs. McBath, my 10th-grade algebra teacher.
I could hardly wait to finish speaking, so I could hug them.
And my daughter -- my Facebook guru -- was making her own discovery, off in the corner with Jessica, Iris' daughter. They had been such close friends once, she called Jessica's grandfather "grandpa." But they went to different high schools, then off to college.
A few months ago, they "friended" each other. But until Saturday they had not spoken. They laughed and caught up, and by the time we left they were talking about how much fun it would be to move in together.
When it comes to "friending," even my daughter agrees that Facebook is a poor substitute for a hug.
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sandy.banks@latimes.com
