Facebook “friends”

My Facebook is telling me I’m “friends” with four fellow graduates of Brandywine High School in northern Delaware. (Class of ’62.)
One is Russell Donovan, who graduated in my class.
One is Lynne Huntsberger Killheffer, who I dated, two classes after me.
The others are my younger brother and baby-sister, who also attended Brandywine, both much later than me.
Funny; my sister-in-Fort Lauderdale, two classes behind me (she graduated with Huntsberger) is not mentioned. My sister must not have Brandywine in her profile, yet we are “friends.”
My blowhard brother-in-Boston, who noisily badmouths everything I do or say, has nothing to do with Facebook. (He also is a Brandywine grad.)
Probably a security-concern, which I more-or-less agree with.
I’ve been tempted to dive from Facebook, but haven’t. People I know use it for communication. E-mail is better, but Facebook is more open.
Huntsberger is a result of her own fishing expedition, as is Donovan.
But the other two aren’t. They’re siblings — of course they graduated Brandywine. They lived in the same house I did.
The import of this, of course, is for me to find more Brandywine grads.
No thanks.
Seems to me some time ago Facebook had a search-engine for finding other Brandywine grads on Facebook.
I tried it, making no “friends.”
Most were classes way after me — the school still exists, I guess.
I graduated almost 50 years ago; the third class to do so at Brandywine. The school was brand-new at that time, a counter to the coming post-war baby-boom.
The few from my class were people I never knew, socialites. —I’m not a socialite.
What few I might be interested in had long ago disappeared.
I hung around with some from the Class of ’64.
The only ’64 grad on Facebook was Huntsberger, who to me I thought had disappeared, but she fished me out.
I probably showed as a Brandywine grad in a Facebook search, so she struck up the old acquaintance.
“One of the few who I could make laugh,” I said, utterly surprised.
“Thank goodness we never married,” I said. “I was a total mess.”
I’m a graduate of the Hilda Walton school of sexual relations.
All boys are uncouth scumbags, totally unworthy of girls.
Hilda Walton was my Sunday-School Superintendent, and next-door neighbor. A God-fearing Christian zealot.
It took decades for me to see Hilda was totally wrong, that girls might actually like boys.
So Facebook is telling me I’m “friends” with four fellow Brandywine grads.
Congratulations, Facebook.
Two count, and two don’t. The last two are siblings.