Not even a “friend” for that matter.  Sorry, but I simply don’t “friend” Facebook; so this morning I disabled my account.

In no significant sense does this utterly delete it. Getting a Facebook page is like getting your ass  tattooed, the best you can do is cover it up so folks can’t comment on it. But it’s still there, festering away on Facebook’s digital rump like a boil that is threatening to erupt.

Sign in with your password and out it pops in all its former glory.

I realize that fb is supposed to have a billion users, something like a seventh of the world’s population, and the traditional wisdom is that this has enabled a wonderful growth of communication and understanding. Permit me to be just a tad skeptical. Very little real communication takes place.

The folks I followed on Facebook are, in real life, pretty interesting people…actors I have worked with, grandkids, an old high-school classmate, a newspaper guy, a former academic colleague and so on.

More often than not what got posted on their Facebook pages failed to rise even to the richness of the average tweet. Somebody went for a bike ride, someone else is appearing in a show, a third is now working for a different newspaper.

Fair enough, I suppose, but what I want to know is what they saw on the bike ride, what their play is about, and what they think of the sorry  state of journalism in the sorry state to which they have found themselves exiled. I miss the sense tat they are talking to me. If not, the rest is simply advertising.

The most active Facebook pages today are those that use Facebook as free commercial advertising sites…small businesses who ask you to like them on Facebook, or big businesses like newspapers or other national enterprises who want to create the illusion of active community and increase page views to their primary sites.  One thing that can be said about the commercial Facebook pages is that they are reasonably attractive. Not so the average personal sites that are more often than not cluttered messes that would have made old time bloggers blush.

Facebook is one leg of what we call ‘the social media’ but the concept of social communication  implies something more than my stating what I’m doing or what I like, or what I plan to do tomorrow. It implies an active connection with an “other.”

This is a large part of what I find missing in Facebook… a billion people talking about themselves and priding themselves on their “friends” doesn’t seem like true communication…It’s just so much advertising.

Thus ends the rant.

I’m not keen on the word ‘vision.’ It’s a word  frequently used by  politicians who don’t have one. I’m embarrassed to be using it here, but I can’t think of a better one. The word ‘plan’ is a good workmanlike alternative, but perhaps too workmanlike. It suggests a specific project in hand, an end agreed upon for which we need only specify the means; something like building a bookcase or providing for the orderly repair of  a system of streets.

If  I say I have a plan for my house, you understand one thing; if I say I have a vision of what my house will be you understand something different. My vision is more than a scheme for the mechanical arrangement of rooms and utilities, it suggests how it might fit with the world around it, and the sort of life I will live within it.

City planning that is not also informed by some less mechanical, some wider-reaching vision of what the city is, or is to become, plans for a body without a soul.  A city not anchored by some vision of itself is nothing more than a developers’ town.

There was a time when thinking of ourselves as the Old Pueblo was enough to impose, on what we built and how we lived, a certain character and style of life that made Tucson distinctive. Our public buildings, like the old courthouse and the veterans’ hospital were built in an exaggerated  Spanish Colonial style.

The interior decoration of our homes reflected the Southwest, Native American and Hispanic traditions. We wore boots and bolo ties, and gentlemen were excused by the mayor from wearing suit coats or jackets during the summer. Our sense of ourselves was that we were a vacation place, a dude ranch place, a place where Spanish was spoken as well as English, a place that was part of the cowboy west  and its traditions.

As we grew in size we outgrew the Old Pueblo sense of who we were. Does rodeo week still express to ourselves and others what we are? I think not. Rodeo is still fun, but it used to be downtown, when there was a downtown, and it was somehow at the heart of things, a culturally defining event. Now it’s banished to the south side and many families use the rodeo week school holiday to take the kids to Disney Land.

Tucson needs a new sense of itself if it is not to be just another sprawling, boring builders’ town.

There’s plenty to build on, including the Spanish accented cowboy west of the Old Pueblo, and the deep cultural traditions and touching cultural pretension that would build a theater and then call it The Temple of Music and Art.

We have made a start in a small way by redefining ourselves, on the electronic billboards  that welcome travelers arriving at the airport, as “Optics Valley.” Corny, derivative, commercial, but not bad. Beats “five dollar town” or “phone center central.”

If we’ve decided to be  the center of  a high tech, well-paid industry, attractive to an intelligent and well educated work force we’ve gone a long way toward redefining who we are.

But we should also aspire to become the artistic and creative center of the southwest. We invest money to bring businesses here, we should also invest money to attract, support, and encourage  the arts. We should make Tucson a place where young artists and intellectuals want to come because it is a center of creative energy.

We could use more studio space, rehearsal space, and above all  a well designed outdoor venue for  all of the performing arts. We should  build a regional art complex, with a mix of  studios, apartments, theaters, and public patio gardens; built at public expense if need be, or with the same sort of tax benefits and subsidies that we offer manufacturers and failing hotel keepers.

Let’s invite young architects and designers of all sorts, too. Let’s  start to think of ourselves as a place where all  the crafts flourish and are supported; a place too proud of its intellectual and artistic traditions to be nothing more than a developers’ town.

The Greek city of Athens was the center of its world. Athens was a great business and commercial power as well a  center of the artistic and intellectual  life of its time. There is no reason why we should not aspire to become the Athens of The Southwest.

It could be a transforming vision… and it would make excellent economic sense.

Howard Carter spent five years, and his sponsor’s, Lord Carnarvon, money, searching for a tomb neither he nor Lord Carnarvon were sure existed. Carnarvon was ready to call an end to the series of expeditions but Carter convinced him to make one last trip.

In November, 1922, they found what they thought was the modest burial site of a wealthy commoner or minor official.The very obscurity of the site, unmarked from the outside, was what preserved one of the great discoveries of modern Egyptology.

Rubble filling a short stairway was cleared and Carter made his way through a passage to an opening that gave onto a larger chamber.

As Carter looked into the chamber Lord Carnarvon, who could not contain himself,  said, “What do you see?”

And Carter’s now famous reply was, “Wonderful things.”

Indeed they were, and you can see an extensive display of them, from intricate faience necklaces, to King Tutankhamun’s chariot here in Tucson. All these are meticulously made replicas of museum holdings from the tomb. But don’t be put off by this. They are breathtaking in their own right.

Some years ago I was lucky enough to see a traveling exhibit of genuine artifacts from Tut’s tomb. I found the current exhibition here in Tucson quite wonderful and in many ways easier to see, since in the original show security precautions kept one much farther away from the exhibits.

The educational materials describing each artifact are extensive and deserve the time they take to read. Happily, if you rush through on your first visit and wish you had spent more time, you may return by simply showing your “visas” (tickets) from your first visit at no charge.

The Rialto Arts and Antiquities King Tut Exhibit runs through August 31 in the Rialto theater building, 300 East Congress Street.

For complete details I recommend looking at the show’s website. Learn about lectures and cooperative deals with downtown restaurants. Things are happening all the time…this is not a static show.