A Murmuring of Laurels

The invitation comes from someone I do not know on Facebook. Odd, because I share my posts only with Friends, and it’s unusual for me to receive any messages from strangers.

I’m messaged by someone with an (almost) unfamiliar name.

The familiar part of the name comes from it being exactly the same as mine.

“Hi Laurel, always great to meet another Laurel. We have a FB group called LAURELS with over 400 of us from all over the world. We’d love for you to join us. grin emoticon,” the stranger Messages.

Laurel and I PM, trying to figure out who we might know in common. There isn’t anyone. I finally guess we must have both Liked a Save the Bees petition in the past year.

Then I notice a little Facebook note:

You’re friends on Facebook through
Order Desk at American Lubricants, Inc.

We are? I try to recall what this could be regarding. I had ordered some special type of mouthpiece lubricant for my vaporizer. Could that be it?

Then I realize this is simply a reference to her employer.

“Hello Laurel!!! To be in the group you must friend Laurel ____ and myself. Would love to see you there. smile emoticon”

It’s an international group of Laurels. When it’s the middle of the night and you can’t sleep, it’s the middle of the day for a Laurel in some other part of the world. You can chat, if you feel like it. All of my posts receive frighteningly quick responses.

I am greeted like a newcomer at a 12-step meeting.

“Hi, Laurel!”

I blink back at a lush landscape of Laurels. (Sorry, it’s hard to resist describing it any other way).

I’m tempted to reply, “Hi, my name’s Laurel and I’m a (What? Addict? Newcomer?)”

“I’m from Pacifica, California,” I volunteer, and from there the discussion takes off.

The majority of these Laurels seem to live in Australia, Queensland in particular. Some live in magical-sounding places like Mooroopna. I see one Laurel whose location I get very excited about: she lives at Mcmurdo Station, Antarctica. It turns out, though, that she’s given that address in an odd attempt to maintain her privacy from Facebook, Google, and the powers that be.

The hundreds of new supportive Facebook Friends murmur warmly. Like the swans of Swan Lake, they beat their feathered wings gently together as, one by one, they come forward to welcome me.

There are male Laurels here, too, one Laurel tells me. Almost none of the Laurels have ever personally met another Laurel. For the first time, I realize that I have never personally known a Laurel, either. One exception is mentioned; one of the Laurels works with a male Laurel down the hall.

Some Laurels were passed down through family tradition.

I’m engulfed by a family I never knew I had. I feel as if I’m meeting my family of origin. Weird! They’re like the talking flowers in Alice in Wonderland. All colors and nationalities, the Laurel faces shine up at me with love.

Or, this could be a fact-finding mission for the CIA.

As I keep reading more from the LAURELS, though, my cynicism melts.

I hear from one of the male Laurels: Laurel Chisty of Bangladesh. He was not handed down an old family name but instead the name of an old company. He writes:

“My father was the owner of a Company named Laurel Freez Co. from 1966. My Uncle was the General Manager of this Freezer Company and so people called my Uncle name Laurel but his name was different and at the end of 1969 He became frustrated to listen his name Laurel. At the time I was in my Mum’s belly and My cousin was in my Aunt’s belly So my Uncle decided which baby will born first ( me or my cousin sister) his/her name will be Laurel. So I was born first and my name was given Laurel. So I was pre named Laurel. That’s the history of my name.”

I had no expectations of learning more about world cultures from such a group, but there you have it. In a matter of days with the LAURELS, I’ve gained new knowledge of geography, history, and the universality of my given name. Kumbaya, worldwide, in a Closed Group.