A: Do you think they have Facebook in heaven?
B: Nah, they have better things to do.
A: Hmm. Do you think they have Facebook in hell?
B: No way, dude. No pleasures in hell.
(Pause, while A. considers this.)
A: Do you think they have Facebook in limbo?
(Pause, while B. considers this.)
B: Facebook is limbo.
The sixteenth anniversary of my older sister's death came and went. I buffered myself with a visit from my long-time friend, Megan. A pedicure. A pancake. A few drinks as the sun set on the Sarasota water. The subject did not go untouched, but it did not drag the day into a melancholy ditch, as I have been known to burrow on other occasions. When the moon replaced the sun on February fourth this year, it literally smiled on Megan and me. (And, you know, dear readers, how infrequently I use the word "literally.") The moon appeared as just a sliver of a thing, but turned on its butt with its pointy ends up. In the middle of the sky! It was impossible to document on my digital camera, so you must just take my word for it.
Lots of people remembered her, my deceased sister, on Facebook, which I find sweet, and yet, odd, in this way: having died in 1995, she would not even know what "Facebook" is.
