One of the things that makes New York so unique is that it is a big repository of every kind of person. I’ve marveled at the notion that I can (and often do) see friends from all walks of life on any given weekend. I can stroll through Central Park with the girl who painted rainbows with me in kindergarten, then get dinner with a guy who sat near me in AP Lit, meet a college buddy for drinks, and then text a former colleague about our brunch reservation on the way home. But it’s not just New York.
Social media keeps everything and everyone suspended in midair, completely tethered to each other. I feel as connected — if not closer — to my brothers now, thousands of miles away, because their faces appear on my newsfeed. And in recent years, I’ve nurtured close friendships with people with whom, in high school, I shared little more than a bus route.
My earliest digital friendship began a decade ago. I was a music journalist for the Fort Myers News-Press and, by Spring 2003, had published at least a few pieces on our hometown heroes, an up-and-coming metal band called Twisted Method. One day, I got an email from a girl named Candace from New Jersey, who found my articles when she did a web search for Twisted Method (google was not a verb and barely a noun at this point). She loved the band — as did I. After several emails, we learned we shared similar taste in music as well as a passion for live shows. So we kept in touch — initially on AIM and MySpace. I’ve received several Christmas cards from her. She listened to me cry on the phone after a tragic event in 2005. Today, we are Facebook friends, and peering through the window of Instagram photos, I get to know her adorable son. I still haven’t met Candace.
Now that I live in New York, we’re not only connected by these digital tethers and the invisible bond of a 10 year friendship, we’re linked by a few stops on the New Jersey Transit. But we haven’t made plans to meet. Will we? The topic has come up once or twice, but maybe we are comfortable this way. If our friendship has lasted a decade, I won’t stress about the train tracks and remain grateful for our digital tethers. Even though it lives through a backlit screen, our friendship is real.
Connecting a large part through social media doesn’t make things any less valuable. Nor does it feel distant at all — unlike the pen pal exchanges of yore. While it doesn’t remove the value of spending time with a person in the living, breathing flesh (super important), it rather enhances our experiences. In fact, thanks to Facebook and texting, my relationships are stronger and closer across the board. It’s a way of life now — in New York and far, far beyond.