We live in edited times. We edit our pictures and videos; we erase backgrounds and people who mar a better image; and we create outcomes that are nearly real or totally imagined. We don’t always know the difference between them. We even begin to believe the memories we created though they’re not necessarily how they happened.

In real time, Lisa and I traveled much of the month to be with our grandchildren and their parents. The pictures we chose to post on social media revealed the truth, including smiling punims (faces), happy grandparents, and special moments. But you didn’t see photos of frustration, children acting out, and our personal exhaustion that arrived on cue every evening and sometimes early afternoon. You didn’t hear for the umpteenth time, “Dad, hold the baby!” or “Did you change his diaper at 10am?” By the way, the answers were, “Ok,” and “No,” in that order. I admit that the photos we posted were of the best times. And, why not? We still remember the in-between times, but no one wants them framed or saved for posterity.

The greatest challenge about living in edited times is that we have been seduced by technology to curate reality. No one said that we can’t, so we all get away with it. We learned that “a picture paints a thousand words,” but a digital photo improves them, beautifies them, and tells a better story. We all do it, and if we all do it then why are we so certain that what we read from others is true and reliable without verification? Why don’t we question everything on social media, even from those whom we are supposed to trust? Recent data shows that a dopamine rush from scrolling through videos and reading posts prevents us from turning off the flow of joy. How could it be false or edited if it makes us so happy? Because so much of it isn’t real or real enough.

Those of us who grew up with photos we waited a week to see after they were developed at the drug store have some awareness of the difference, but generations have already grown up in the digital world where everything they do is memorialized on the internet because it’s all so special. Here’s a hard truth: it isn’t. The ability to create content that’s honest and real and to discern others’ content for its truth requires life skills. It now affects everything, from personal growth and self-esteem in emerging adults to the way we all see the world of politics, war, famine, and natural disasters, and also verifiable history, wisdom, and love.

There’s no perfect answer to mitigate against the impacts of social media, but if less is still more, then I recommend that we look for natural joys in more than other people’s lives documented on the internet. As one slogan says, “Get out there!” and spend real time with family and friends, read the menu when you get to the restaurant but not before, and keep some pictures of your children and grandchildren that aren’t perfect, because they’re not perfect, either. Well, grandchildren are perfect but not every picture of them is perfect. Remember that the definition of a genius is an average child with Jewish grandparents.

In edited times, let’s curate our stories without fear of imperfections. They make us human and real. They help us know our place among others and where others belong among us.

L’Shalom,