LifeBook

Today my wife and I are celebrating our 10th year of marriage.
In the last decade, we’ve held ten jobs, had three kids, owned four cars, adopted two dogs, moved through three addresses, battled cancer twice, published one graphic novel and spent one Halloween at sea.

Today, at 12:01 AM, I updated my Facebook status and my profile pic.

Every year for the last three years I’ve posted the same profile picture on our anniversary.

We spend a lot of time demonizing social media. It makes us lazy. It makes us distant. It makes us targets. And there are certainly legitimate reasons to be suspicious of it. But, today, what struck me about the comments below our Facebook anniversary picture were the dates.

The first batch of well-wishing and “remember whens”, from both people who attended the wedding and those who didn’t even know us then, are dated December 9th, 2008.

The next batch Dec 9th, 2009.

Then this morning’s.

Our photoshopped wedding picture has become a meeting place.

Once a year, friends and family who’ve grown distant because of changes in geography, or changes in life, or just changes, gather around a picture of two wide-eyed and naive newlyweds and spend a few moments remembering a cold, snowy day, nervous vows, and a rocking dance floor.

And then they document those memories.

Document them in ways as varied and numerous as the internet will allow– ways that put Hallmark to shame. They fill out our memory of the day. Sharing the things that we didn’t see or hear. Like a DVD with special features, we get the “deleted scenes”,”the alternate endings”.

Occasionally, something poetic gets posted as a result of that profile picture. Something profound is captured. More often, it’s something goofy. But goofy and perfect.

And then on December 10th, I change the profile picture and everyone goes their separate, digital way.

Until next year.

Yes, social media can be an all-consuming, substance lacking, vacuum with a URL.

But, once a year, it can be something more.

Earlier this week a student pointed out to me that “once a year” describes each and every day.

Happy anniversary, Liza. We still look that good.