This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon, Sept. 28, 2011 - Last Thursday began with an inaudible yet tremendous public outcry: Facebook had made changes to its interface. HOW DARE THEY?
Among the changes was an automated classification of "top stories," status updates using some algorithm one cannot begin to decipher without a degree in advanced mathematics and which is supposed to determine what's important to you. There's also a timeline feature, which shows what your Facebook friends are doing in real time -- essentially a Facebook for your Facebook.
These new features have been praised by some as crucial to the long-term success of the social media giant -- and a clear example of Facebook's willingness to change, adapt and evolve along with its users.
Others bemoaned it, citing the changes as unnecessary, confusing and even, by some, as an attempt to prepare Facebook's 800 million active users to start paying for the service.
In less than a week, hardly any one seems to have qualms with Facebook anymore and are using it again to do what it has done so well: communication.
News of the untimely and tragic death of an inimitable St. Louis luminary, Bob Cassilly, founder of the City Museum, set social media pillars Facebook, Twitter and others, including LinkedIn and Google+, ablaze. His death while working on his newest Willie Wonka-like creation of wonderment, Cementland, shook the city, from the everyday person to the most prominent.
The St. Louis Beacon saw its number of visitors, page views and a number of other measurable stats skyrocket. But what was truly remarkable was the way in which people came to read the news: nearly 60 percent came from shared Facebook links alone.
Others retweeted or simply linked the news in their own Twitter feeds. Many simply offered their condolences to the family and friends of the innovative visionary Cassilly.
News of such gravity, news that shakes communities even as large as St. Louis, is no longer communicated from the top downward. The vertical communication, from which we hear of such information from a venerable and vetted authority and then pass that information on to others, is no longer the status quo.
Rather, we communicate horizontally, person-to-person, and then our well-trained news organizations magnify that information if it is of great importance, such as the news of Bob Cassilly's passing. Tools such as Twitter and Facebook have facilitated that.
Such news does not have to be so broad either. The same Thursday as the changes were made to Facebook, I received a call from my father. His sister, my aunt, was "not doing well." She was in the hospital, succumbing to a long disease. She passed away at 3:20 p.m., surrounded by her family.
News of that more personal, isolated tragedy also resonated through social media. I watched as my 13-year-old cousin received condolences from her Facebook friends, who are, in fact, her actual friends and schoolmates. I also watched friends of mine, some of whom I didn't even realize knew my aunt, write their own remembrances on their own and even my late aunt's Facebook wall.
I myself scrolled through her profile pictures, remembering all of the holidays and dinners we had shared, as well as her taking me to my very first movie (the long-forgotten "Oliver and Company," which is "Oliver Twist" told by Billy Joel-singing dogs, a must-see for anyone over the age of 2).
The cliche of pounding one's fists to denote the importance, impact and relevancy of social media in our 21st century lives is already a tired one. We all get it. It's important. But what is paramount is the underlying foundation and cornerstone of all of these various, somewhat fad-happy social media outlets: communication.
One can consider Facebook loathsome for its various changes or for its seemingly seamless transition toward a Big-Brother-esque know-it-all. One can lament Twitter, its use of hashtags and its arbitrary condensation of conversation points to 140 characters. One can hate Google+ for whatever it is that Google+ does. Yet while these mediums themselves may be vogue for now, their essence is one that has shaped the way we receive, interpret and process information, both public and private.
It's not something with which one can choose to get on board or get left behind; it is the way it is. At its core, it is the way it has always been and will be.