Parking It with Antsy McClain

I Have a Friend I've Never Met Named Nolan - Part Two
Facebook provides a window into our lives and hearts.

Back in December, I wrote about a man named Nolan (fictitious name) who I had "friended" on Facebook. (The original blog post was called "I Have a Friend I've Never Met Named Nolan," and it is included just below this post.)

Facebook has a strange way of giving one insight into the personal lives of people, glimpses really, into what they might be going through on a daily basis.

Nolan's wife had lost her battle with cancer just before Thanksgiving, and I scrolled through the many posts from friends expressing their sadness. One post particularly caught my eye. A fellow musician and songwriter had expressed herself awkwardly but beautifully with this stream of consciousness: "Warm Summer Sun Shine Kindly Here; Warm Southern Wind Blow Softly Here..."

It struck me when I read that post, that words of commiseration, typed into a response block on Facebook are no easier to come by than when we are face to face. I have felt this way so many times, facing a grieving loved one at a funeral. My words blurt out from my mouth in maddening inadequacy until I feel like I'm a preschooler, unequipped to express even the slightest degree of emotion. Words like "warm," and "sunshine" emerge to somehow express what you'd want that person to feel right now, rather than pain and cold and darkness. Nothing comes close to expressing how we feel in these situations. Words do nothing for us. Only actions help. Only hugs. Only shared tears.

And time.

Days later, Nolan himself posts: "Believe in yourself. Follow your dreams. Just always remember, 'Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment.'"

Friends responded to this in a cascade of encouragement. One friend commented that, "I'm happy to see you even mention hope at this point in time..." Another friend listed all the people who love him and were there for him.

Nolan's response, in part, was, "God bless you folks. I'm taking things one day at a time. As long as I keep occupied it's better. Then when I slow down reality strikes and I realize I'm running on empty..." Nolan uploads a picture of his late wife a day later, calling her the angel who watches over him.

Then nothing.

On December 14th, just 11 days before Christmas, Nolan posts, "I wonder if whoever broke into my home on the weekend found what they were looking for?"

Responses flooded in. Friends humorously listed their alibis, adding the iconic wink made with a semi colon and parenthetic smile. Others expressed shock, adding "That's terrible! Nothing like kicking a guy when he's down!" But some responses were ominous. One friend warned Nolan to be careful, saying that "putting personal information on facebook can alert people that you're not home, etc."

One last post said simply, "It is always someone you know... almost always. LOL."

That was December 15th.

There was no response from Nolan.

There was no activity on Nolan's page other than the ubiquitous blessings, gifts and invites to join Farmville or Mafia Wars.

I was beginning to worry about Nolan, this friend I'd never met. I found myself thinking about him often, even talking to my wife about him over dinner and at the bathroom sink as we got ready for work in the mornings. I resolved that I would "make his acquaintance," by actually sending him a message and letting him know how touched I was by his life, his friends, and what he had recently gone through.


TO BE CONTINUED

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Part One, posted on Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I Have a Friend I've Never Met Named Nolan
(Nolan's name and the details have been changed here, for obvious reasons)

Facebook can be a strange microcosm of real life, with so many crossroads and intersections.

I have Facebook "friends" I've never met in real life, people who found me through a "mutual friend," who may have heard my music and liked a song, or who have just signed up for friendship to stay in touch with their people. Reasons vary, but in this digital world, we often are "friends" with strangers. I meet Facebook friends at my concerts, and we enjoy the immediacy of the bond the internet provides. We are a community, and communities share things, all things, with each other.

At any rate, I occasionally find myself stumbling into the lives of others after their response to a mutual friend has made me smile, or wince. Their Facebook page – like mine, like yours – exposes who we are in slices. Pictures, status updates, and our friends (the company we keep) can say a lot about a person, including comments and replies which are often meaningful signposts and insights into the human condition.

Although we've never met, a man from Kentucky named Nolan is a friend of mine. And after only a few minutes this morning, I feel like I've known him for a very long time. But most importantly, without ever meeting, Nolan taught me something very important. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After reading Nolan's witty, but sad comment on the wall of a mutual friend, he piqued my interest, and I hopped over to his page. His picture looked familiar, so I wanted to see if maybe our paths had crossed.

Now, as a Facebook user yourself, this story likely makes you feel vulnerable, and that's understandable. Friendship of any kind can be a very vulnerable thing. And just so you know, I don't do this every day, just jump into someone's life like I'm going through their drawers and closets. ha. But as a storyteller and songwriter, I am a naturally curious observer of people. Every person is a living, breathing story, most often an amazing one, with beauty, light, sadness and darkness all rolled up into one heart, one soul. I love people. I love stories. To me, it's all the same thing.

Now, with Facebook, the most recent posts are placed at the top of the page as you know, so if you read and scroll down, you will get a "rewind" experience, almost as if watching a movie backwards, the movie of someone's life over the last several days or weeks. This was my experience this morning.

Nolan's relationship status resolutely states that he is married. His status picture is a lovely duet of himself and his beautiful wife smiling in happy times, maybe a decade or so ago. The scanned picture is just a bit faded and the clothing dated to the late 90's.

His posts were short at the top of his page, with friends replying that he was in their prayers, to call if he needed them.

Scrolling down, there was nothing, a long break, with friends posting comments on his wall like "Hey buddy, haven't heard from you in a while. What's going on?" Some of the comments were like this: "Even though we haven't met (in person), I feel like I've known you all my life. My thoughts are with you at this difficult time."

Then more. The posts were dense, with replies like "Ditto, my friend. Take care of yourself. I'm praying for you."

Then, the horrible post in lower case letters with no punctuation, announcing the funeral services of his wife, followed by streams of support and comfort, replies by friends that they'll be there, that he is in their thoughts.

Then, scrolling further down the page, several struggling requests that his friends keep her in their prayers, saying helplessly that, "We are holding on, but we need a miracle."

My guilt-laden perusal through someone's life was interrupted by a phone call. It was my wife. She had news about something pressing, something important, the details of which I can't recall anymore. I stopped her and told her I loved her, that I appreciated her for putting up with me. In her usual non-plussed way, she tried to brush away the moment, but I wouldn't let her. She asked what prompted me to say this. I paused and said, "A friend just got me thinking."

Thanks, Nolan. My thoughts and prayers are with you too.