My husband does this thing. I call it "harrumphing."

It is the look and feel of him being dismissive of a fad, of a silly flight of fancy.

The latest wave I have caught which causes Bob endless consternation? Facebook.

I admit it, I love Facebook.

I feel like such a cliché saying that. Who isn't discovering Facebook right now?

Heck, my parents and all of their retired friends are having the times of their lives on Facebook.

But Facebook has become something to me that I think it is becoming to many others "of a certain age" (that is my new, polite way of discussing people who are middle-aged like me!)

It is helping us reconnect with our lives.

My first request from a high school friend came several months ago. We hadn't talked in 20 years. She opened the door for many other reconnections.

Now, I have a Facebook site that is filled with friends I haven't spoken to since I was a teenager. We don't need to do much but post an old photo now and then, or share an old memory.

I love it. It's easy. What's not to like?

Now I am in the midst of rediscovering friends from my days working in radio. This is also a hoot.

In the last week alone, I have added old boyfriends, an old boss or two, and many friends.

Now we are talking all hooking up and having a reunion from the newsroom.

My husband "harrumphs" about my new Facebook hobby. He doesn't see the point, and doesn't understand why all of these people choose to reconnect online.

Why not just let the old connections fade?

For me, it is because there is a piece of me out there still in those connections. Somewhere in Oregon lives a woman who I was great buddies with when I was 17.

Why did we drift apart? Do we have much in common now? I don't know if we do. But I feel warm inside as we reconnect and tell our tales of our children, our lives.

My dad says he experiences the same thing, the feeling of finding people from his past and rejoining with them again.

I guess as we get older those early memories take on more and more beauty, more of a sepia tone, more tenderness.

can feel it begin now. The lump in my throat when I think of how quickly time is passing. The shaking of my head when I realize how young we all were.

Facebook is also an easy way to share my children with my friends. I post photos, share their accomplishments.

My old friends may not live here on Vashon. They may not even meet my children. But they can know them from Facebook, just a bit.

I also love Facebook because it is the language of youth.

My daughter and I may have some disagreement and be crabby with each other. She goes to Facebook and takes a quiz, passes the quiz to me, and we realize we both would be same character in a movie or book.

It reminds us both how we are so alike really.

I know it is where young people go now to tell the world what hurts.

On Mother's Day, my nephews all posted on their Facebook pages. They missed their mom (my sister-in-law), who passed away almost nine years ago. They shared their thoughts about their mom on their pages. I felt somehow closer to them, and to their mom.

I always think of the boys on Mother's Day. It felt good to be united across the miles through a simple web page.

Yes, there are plenty of things we are losing in our tech-world. We are losing the beauty of the written word. We are losing beautiful letters, written in gorgeous script. We are losing long talks over tea, and long-distance calls late at night to old friends.

Now we communicate on Facebook. We talk, we share our lives, and we have a chance to all stay connected.

I know there are those out there "harrumphing," those that don't like the idea that our communications have come to this.

I am not one of them. I come to my Facebook late at night. I connect and see old friends and know what they are all doing. I didn't have that a year ago.

And the reconnection alone is something indeed in a difficult time.

Lauri Hennessey runs a public relations business and is the mother of three children. You can reach her at lauri@hennesseypr.com, or find her on Facebook.