I like cemeteries. Not to the extent that I want to move in yet. Although I am always in the market for a good photo for my obituary. But I like wandering through cemeteries. Particularly historic ones. I am drawn to read the headstones with names and birth/death dates. For many of those interred therein with no remaining immediate descendants it is the only evidence of their existence. Imagine, those few words giving scant evidence of lives of love, hard work and accomplishment.

I take some comfort that there are three generations of my ancestors in Abbotsford’s Hazelwood cemetery. Someday there will be four (unless Pam simply puts me out with the compost to save money).

Many of my Facebook friends have passed over the last several years. Some of their profiles have been turned into memorial sites. Some I knew well, some not so well. I have a few times considered unfriending the two or three dozen friends who are deceased. I know it won’t hurt their feelings but I have resisted doing so. Partly out of respect. Partly because their continuing to be friends isn’t taking any space. And perhaps it’s a way of keeping some memory of people I respected.

Facebook presents a conundrum in this respect. Previous to the last couple of weeks I have never unfriended anyone and I still have never blocked anyone. I am a believer in free speech. But two weeks ago I decided to unfriend my first two individuals who had indicated unhappiness with my posts (they apparently didn’t know how to scroll). I thought I would solve their problem for them. Both are seeking elective office next week (hopefully unsuccessfully). They are my first unfriends. “Should I go further? “ I thought.

I thought again about the deceased friends. And I considered my own motivations for many of my posts on Facebook. Perversely, I have used Facebook as a diary. Recording events, reactions and thoughts over the last several years. Even including information about my childhood and family history. A diary. Certainly not a private one. A diary where my children can find details and understand me and their history. even after my eventual demise. For all of the negatives of Facebook and the nastiness it encourages, it provides a permanent record. Like the cemetery markers did and do.

I think I’ve decided to keep my dead friends out of respect. I just have to learn not to be disappointed when they don’t react to my posts.
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What do you do with your Facebook friends when they pass?

Pam and I are on the road. We have left all of our cares behind us. Actually it is our children we have left behind. For the first time ever.

As we head up to the apartment in Whistler we have left our children behind in the Fraser Valley. Not an epic odyssey to compete with Homer, but a childless trip none the less. With our children being 12, 15, 17 and 18 it’s not like we are leaving infants that will be snapped up by a child apprehension officer. No chance of that. The government refused to grab them when they were younger no matter how many times we reported ourselves.

Quite simply we are cautious parents. That’s not the same as good parents. We have always worried about them being on their own. So when they have split between Abbotsford and Harrison so have we. Only this week end the family will be split between Whistler, Harrison and Abbotsford.

The reason for this odyssey? Cycling. Pam and I are taking our bikes to Whistler like young athletes do with their expensive sports bikes. We are going with our electric bikes. Admittedly not so athletic although it does take a strong manly thumb to push the throttle of an e-bike. Any way it’s a start.

Several questions come to mind:

• Will the kids manage without us?
• Will we enjoy the biking or have we left it too late in life and we should have brought up electric scooters?
• Will this be the beginning of several getaway weekends?
• Will our marriage survive the two days alone together?

For the answer to these and other such burning questions tune in to future Facebook posts.