Left to right are Tamzen, my daughter Sarah, and Jasmine, here all age 10. We’re down at the park enjoying a beautiful fall afternoon.
They had planned to spend the afternoon on the computer, playing games. But I managed to coerce them out into this amazing light.
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For a while, their focus was Webkinz. They’re plush toys that come with a code that allows the owner to log onto the website and play games,
decorate their rooms and visit each other online. Very cute, but a bit expensive. Sarah owned some 50 or 60 of them by the time her interest
began to wane. Jasmine had more. I’m not sure about Tamzen’s collection.
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Now, all the rage is Disney’s “Club Penguin.” There’s nothing to buy, but you have to pay for membership if you want your penguin avatar to
be able to access the entire site. Sarah, a.k.a. “Sweetflora,” lives in Qualicum Beach, about 100 miles away. Jasmine, a.k.a. “Puffball 119,”
still lives in Victoria. They don’t get to see each other often, and the distance, over time, has estranged them socially. They can still cyber-visit
using their Antarctic avatars, in the online chat rooms of Club Penguin. The anonymity of relating to each other through the avatars probably
helps break down the barriers that time and distance have built.
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For adults, the same would be true of Facebook. It’s allowed me to track people I haven’t heard from in 30 years. It’s even prompted me to
contact and meet up with some old friends, long gone.
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In the real world though, my life is filled with negotiating the complexities of the relationships of my current life. Adding those past relationships
to the present mix can be a bit overwhelming, akin to some Star Trek-like rift in the space-time continuum. As for me ... I’m already having
enough trouble relating to the known universe.   Mark Heine