Mary Poppins reveals the darkish aspect of Fb

The recent fake ad riot on Facebook has highlighted how unreliable social media reports can be. But a few years ago I learned this lesson firsthand – and in a very unexpected way.

My story actually starts back when I was in sixth grade and got the title role in my class production of Mary Poppins. It was the height of my elementary school career and seemed like a surefire sign that I was meant for the Broadway star. I beat out the lyrics for “Spoonful of Sugar” while dramatically pouring medicine onto a spoon. I smiled cautiously when the boy who played Bert serenaded me with “Jolly Holiday”. Our appearances were rewarded with seemingly endless standing ovations. Kindergarten children chased me for my autograph for weeks.

Unfortunately, my start was short-lived. A series of disappointing auditions in junior high productions convinced me that a career in front of the limelight was not in my future. But I still had Mary. I would always have Maria.

At least that’s what I thought.

A surprising revelation

Fast forward to Facebook FB Invention, + 0.01% and the Rise of Throwback Thursday (#TBT) when everyone is celebrating their past (or embarrassing their kids and friends) by posting pictures from a long time ago. Long-neglected class pictures appeared weekly in my Facebook news feed. So I wasn’t too surprised on a Thursday afternoon when a Facebook friend and ex-classmate – we’ll call her Karen M. – posted a photo of herself as a birdwife from sixth grade Mary Poppins production.

What surprised me, however, was Sarah B’s comment: “I was a chimney sweep. Jennifer K. was Mary Poppins … oh how I remember it! ‘

My jaw dropped and my eyes almost fell out of my head as I saw the words on my computer screen. What? What? Jennifer K. wasn’t Mary Poppins! I was Mary Poppins!

I immediately went to correct the record, but my fingers caught on the keys. It seemed kind of pathetic jumping in so quickly and reminding others of my time in the spotlight. Better to let someone else do it, I thought. Surely some graduate of Miss Schmitt’s class would want to pay homage where it is due.

I’ve waited and updated the page. Nothing.

I went back to a work project, then came back and freshened up again. Now there were comments about how terribly cute Karen M. looked in her plaid fringed scarf. But what about Sarah B.’s statement? Not a word. Not then, and not when I checked 10 minutes later. Or half an hour later. Or the dozen or so extra times that I went back that evening. What happened?

Deleted from Facebook?

It is often said that browsing Facebook is the most humiliating experience and I can’t disagree with that anymore. Everyone on Facebook looks happier than me. Everyone has more exotic vacations. Every Thanksgiving turkey is a prettier golden brown shade. Everyone on Facebook is better than me. It’s okay. I made peace with that.

But that was a whole new level of deterioration. Facebook didn’t just belittle me. Now it had actually wiped me out.

As far as Facebook was concerned, I was never Mary Poppins – and who should I argue with? I didn’t have my own pictures. All I had were my memories – and how conclusive were they when the internet was here now? It was a 21st century version of that unanswerable question: If a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, does it make a sound? If something happens but Facebook doesn’t acknowledge it … did it really happen?

The next morning I went about my normal business and felt anything but normal. Instead, I felt kind of transparent, like the cashier at the grocery store could put her hand right through me like people did with Patrick Swayze in the movie “Ghost”. Yes, it was ridiculous – it was just a sixth grade play; it was just Facebook. But it was still sad. How could no one remember that I was up there on that stage?

Set the record right

And then, as I got into my car, a warning came on my cell phone: Karen M. tagged you on Facebook. I held my breath hoping this was what I thought and clicked my way to Facebook. Indeed, there was Karen M’s comment, glorious in its simplicity:

“I think Barbara S. was Mary Poppins.”

Oh happy day! If Mark Zuckerberg had been around I would have wrapped my arms around him. After a short time, Sarah B. agreed that she was wrong, and Jennifer K. spoke up to say that she had actually played the little girl Jane. Then Brad R., who played her little brother Michael, summed it up – with the word you say when there is nothing else to say:

Supercalifragilisticxpialidocious, he wrote.

For me, this #TBT post and its aftermath was a game changer. It showed me that Facebook is a funhouse mirror in which our reflection is not formed by what we do, but by what others make of us. No wonder people check their posts with such anticipation and hope for an endless stream of “likes”, “favorites” and other positive emoticons.

Although I still use it both professionally and personally, I have taught myself to look at the real world when I need recognition or a memory that is important to me. As a source of emotional comfort, Facebook is a fickle friend.