This morning, after hearing about the death of Senator Ted Kennedy, I sent my sentiments into the ether that is the internet.

A pretty benign and standard statement that reflected what many others felt and thought this morning, I’m sure. Imagine my surprise when I received the following e-mail just minutes after the above tweet went live:

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Hello,

You don’t know me…I read your twitter comment about Ted Kennedy’s passing and how proud you are of him.

I was a young woman when Mary Jo Kopechne was killed at Chappaquiddick.

I was so sad for her and her family at her senseless death.

If only Senator Kennedy called the police right away and not leave her to die, she most likely would of survived the car crash.

His actions on that fateful night clearly told me about his character and I have never forgotten how he got away with it all because of who he was and his money.

You being ‘twenty something’ probably think of this as ancient history, but it’s not.

He got away with murder.

Kind regards,

Elizabeth

(Links added by Julie.)

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The sender is of course entitled to her opinion although I’m still a bit unsure why it was me she singled out to send this message to.  Even hours later, “Ted Kennedy” continues to be a trending topic on Twitter.

But her e-mail has left me trying to reconcile a number of points:

1. I’m a big proponent of accessibility and even wrote a post last year on why it’s important for bloggers to have their contact information displayed on their sites. But, I have to be honest, it was unnerving to get e-mail of that sort in a place (my inbox) which is usually one filled with friendly “faces”. What happened if someone decided to send me truly malicious e-mails? Have I set myself up for disaster? At the moment, I’ve decided to keep my e-mail accessible on this site and hopefully I won’t regret it.

2. It’s an interesting feeling growing up in a country where you were not born. Most days, you feel like a local but little things will remind you that in some ways, you’ll always be a transplant and an outsider. Defining what I consider to be my history is a bit tricky: I feel ownership over USSR events that took place up to 1991 (the year I immigrated to America) and over American events that have taken place since then, but not vice versa. I feel the same disconnection with America’s struggle with slavery as I do with a democratic Russia…

As such, Elizabeth is right in assuming that being young does affect my view of Senator Kennedy but I would argue that others of my generation may have a different perspective. I simply lacked an environment where that story would have been passed down and where I would have been exposed to opinions on the subject that would have helped define Senator Kennedy’s persona for me.

3. In trying to mull over how to combine these two images of Senator Kennedy – seen by some as a murderer and by others as a champion of human rights, here’s what I think I’ve come to stand on the issue:

Unfortunately, during one chapter of Senator Ted Kennedy’s life, he panicked, made a mistake, didn’t handle a situation as he should have.  As my good friend David points out, “[What happened is] a chapter that can’t be left out. And for some, it’s the only chapter”. When looking at Senator Ted Kennedy’s life it’s important to view it as a whole and not get stuck on one chapter. As a whole, Senator Kennedy was a great man who worked to better the world and his memory should be shown the respect it deserves.

Today, I created my own miniature High School reunion.

I searched Facebook for those who had graduated Lexington High School the same year as me. And I sent everyone with whom I was not already connected a Facebook friend request accompanied by a short note.

(As an early adopter, I connected to other LHS alumni when I first joined Facebook, but had since been reactive rather than proactive at connecting to my former classmates.)

I reached out to everyone I could remember from my middle school and high school years, regardless of whether our interactions had been frequent and friendly or casual and distant. Of course, there was part of me that felt like (pardon my colloquialism use) a HUGE TOOL. Would these people remember who I was? (They should – I’m a big deal!) Would they think my request came out of nowhere?

But in some ways, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been out of high school long enough that it’s hard to remember exactly the sort of relationship that I had with each of these people. Any ill-feelings or regrets have nicely faded into a simple nostalgia. Our senior year, my class really came together at a point; we were over the pre-defined cliques and categories that can so dictate high school. And now, these are people that, while they may not know the person I’ve become, will understand my history and where I come from.

And while seeing how everyone’s lives have changed can be entertaining, there was another benefit to having this self-created reunion. As someone completely immersed in Social Media (of which Social Networks are a subcategory), I know the golden rule:

IT’S THE DIVERSITY OF YOUR NETWORK,

NOT THE MASS, THAT DRIVES ITS POWER.

My former classmates have been a valuable untapped part of my network that I am now equipped to leverage in the future. While we were all a fairly homogenous group at one point, it’s now years later and we have relocated for college and then perhaps relocated again for employment… The spider web that comprises our collective contacts has grown in exponential numbers during these prime years. In fact, it probably will never grow at such a rapid rate as we begin to settle down and our lives become increasingly stable.

So by reaching out to even one person from high school who has gone in a completely different direction than me (both literally and figuratively) I’m able to extend my network in a way that’s simply not possible if I just connect to people in my current social circle.

I urge you to think about creating your individual high school reunion. The next time you look to your network for help, you’ll be glad you did.

On Monday evening, I went to hear Keith Ferrazzi, author of Never Eat Alone, speak about his new book Who’s Got Your Back. A lot of the things he spoke about really resonated with me.

His message was that we, as a culture, have become isolated from each other yet it’s relationships that drive both professional and personal success.

(A sobering statistic: 50% of individuals believe that someone has their back. Of that 70% are married. That means that only 35% of unmarried individuals believe that they have someone looking out for them.)

During the talk, Keith had us do several exercises with the person sitting next to us.

In the first exercise, he had us identify an ultimate goal of ours – something that we longed for and fear we might never achieve. Those who know me well know that I ended up sharing one of my biggest fears with the Indian gentleman sitting next to me who I had just introduced myself to moments earlier.

In the second, Keith wanted us to think of something that was holding us back, a behavior that was detrimental to our success but we kept doing anyway (an addiction if you will). My “addiction” came to mind just as easily as my “ultimate goal”: My perfectionsim has fueled an aversion to answering e-mails.

I am horrible, horrible, at answering e-mails even though I have the best of intentions. The problem is that when I get a personal e-mail, I want to respond in kind. I want to really sit and write from the heart and be able to edit and re-edit until I get the flow and content just right. 

But in the end, the e-mail remains unwritten.

I know, I know, that my contacts would rather receive something than nothing. And yet, I always find myself in the same situation.

So, as of this Monday, which happened to be June 1st, (a nice round date), I vow to hold myself to a higher standard – or maybe to a lower one, as the case may be – and to really make a concious effort to respond to the personal correspondence I receive.

I haven’t yet read Who’s Got Your Back (although when I do it’ll be a copy signed by Mr. Ferrazzi himself), but from what I can tell, the next step in Keith Ferrazzi’s plan for happiness is to seek out two to four people who can act as a peer support system or a board of advisors. These are people who must exhibit: vulnerability, candor, generosity and be able to hold you accountable to your goals. 

So, if I actually go through with this whole thing and you get a call from me asking to be on my “team” I hope you won’t let me forget this promise I’ve made to myself.

Last week,  it was a question about social media and dating (namely, “When is it appropriate to Facebook someone you are dating?“) that led someone to this blog. This week, the question is about being a twentysomething in DC.

Since the collective of the group is always much wiser than my thoughts alone, I pose this person’s question to you in the form of the poll below. Feel free to elaborate on your answer (perhaps explaining why you’ve chosen the answers you have) and to suggest areas I did not include.

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