Finally, a social networking site I really need, and wish I didn't

For years, I've cynically dismissed social networking as the biggest time-wasting tool since I bothered to learn all that CB radio lingo, 10-4, good buddy.

I haven't visited my MySpace account since 2008 because it kept bombarding me with messages from people I didn't know, mostly young, attractive women wearing provocative clothes and posing suggestively alongside shallow messages that they had noticed my photo-less, blank profile entry and thought I'd make a perfect new friend.

Facebook seemed more promising. But the initial charm wore off after I discovered most of my online friends never really shared anything more intimate than the news that they were "looking forward to Friday," "can't wait to slip into bed," or updated their statuses on all the online games they were playing. A woman I haven't seen since high school did send me a status update announcing that she "found a Baby moose" in a game called Roller Coaster Kingdom and also earned a "First Blood" achievement in Mafia Wars, but I'm really not sure what to do with that information. I ignored an invitation to join groups such as "Don't Let Newspapers Die" or pass along the Iowa Football wave.

I don't take any quizzes that will tell me which Peanuts character I resemble, which heavy metal singer is most like me, what mythical creature I should feel a kinship with, or which kitchen utensil I'd be if I were a kitchen utensil. I've always assumed I'd be a spatula and I really don't care to have that dream crushed by a quiz that suggests I'd be more suited as a melon baller. Most social networking sites give me fluff.

"I call them 'small talk,'" says Sona Mehring, 48, founder of the CaringBridge.org Web site that provides an online outlet when "deeper conversation is needed."

A technology expert in Minnesota who was doing Web page design for small businesses, Mehring developed CaringBridge in 1997, in an age before blogs, social networking and user content were household words. A friend gave birth to a critically premature baby and asked Mehring to "let everybody know what was going on."

Mehring set up a Web page for baby Brighid.

"That power of connecting and bringing everybody together for a common cause was that 'wow' event," Mehring says, who remembers thinking, "Boy, this is a service that needs to be out there."

While Brighid died on her ninth day, the not-for-profit, free service her life inspired continues to thrive, employing 40 people and raising its $6 million budget almost exclusively from donations. More than 172,000 personal sites have been created on CaringBridge.org for people with health problems, and those sites have been visited more than a billion times. In the past 12 months, more than 31 million people have visited CaringBridge to read patient stories, journals and updates, see and post photographs, and share stories.

Unfortunately, my 47-year-old little brother, Bill, now has one of those CaringBridge sites. Given his extremely grim diagnosis of bile duct cancer (the disease that killed Bears legend Walter Payton), Bill wanted to let his friends know. With our family overwhelmed by phone calls, e-mails and text messages, my wife set up CaringBridge.org/visit/billconstable, and the word got out.

Within hours, my brother's TV cameraman friend from Arlington Heights, who was in New Zealand filming a golf tournament, knew about Bill's illness. Using Facebook and other modern networking, friends and family directed others to Bill's CaringBridge site. As I write this Wednesday, more than 4,100 people across the nation and in a few foreign countries have visited Bill's site, and more than 400 have left messages offering everything from prayers to old stories, new stories, touching stories, funny stories and names of doctors to try. Bill's diverse friends would never run into each other in real life. But CaringBridge unites all of Bill's friends, from the on-air TV sports personalities Bill works with to his third-grade teacher. CaringBridge opened up chapters of Bill's life that other friends had no idea existed. It has merged compassion and technology. It has allowed my brother to know how loved he is. It has given my entire family comfort, laughs, love and hope.

All we need now is a miracle.

(As an aside to this column, I'd like to thank everyone who has e-mailed or called me personally, and everyone at the Daily Herald who has been so supportive and understanding.)