Collecting friends

Whereas my father collected stamps and coins avidly both in his teens as well as later in life, I've recently hopped onto the cyberspace wagon carrying millions of Facebook devotees, which in essence means I'm collecting friends from all over the country, and, potentially, from all over the globe.

I do confess to possessing an unimpressive collection of largely Norwegian coins from the 20'th century, but apart from that my only bleak attempt at mimicking the priorities of a true collector, is my second-floor library - of sorts. In my childhood, my books were the only friends that came in the dozens, and not just in the accidental, non-returning visitor. But adult life, the grace of God, and the growing circle of friends and acquaintances, have all contributed to a marked reorientation:

People are far better companions in the longer run, so these days I'm much more likely to sit in front of my pc for a half hour, treating myself to the regular fare of being updated on the whereabouts and pet projects of people I know well, or have only begun to get to know.

I'm not belittling the joys and boons of reading quality books. I'm still munching on a few minutes of John Milton's *Paradise regained' every now and then, but since my father died, the awareness has grown in me that I'll be in urgent need of company when old age hits me and my health may be deteriorating faster than I can now imagine.

There's one thing that needs to be clarified, though: cyberspace friendship isn't like the real thing, and the image on the screen doesn't compare well with the warmth of a handshake, or a touch. But meeting people via the Internet is, to me, very much like maintaining rapport with people I like, and the mutually beneficient exchange of small tidbits of personal news now may stand me in good stead later - when my gray hears will have multiplied.

Because I don't want to be left alone in a big house with very few people to turn to, like my recently widowed mother. I don't fear the loss of my books, but I do feel a sense of apprehension at the prospect of sitting at my breakfast table, with no one across the table to share the meal with.

That's why I, in a way, am collecting friends; a superior cure for loneliness and anxiety, and medication for your bones.