I asked my 15-yr-old granddaughter what made somebody a social influencer. She said these are people who have the means to affect the way others think, dress and act. They use social media – mostly TikTok and Instagram – as their platform.

“What do they influence them to do?” I asked.

“Everything,” she said. “Cooking, dancing, what to wear, or just hanging out with friends.”

I looked up a few of the most popular ones. Most promote themselves, but a few create videos about ways to live. Some were as useful as cotton candy while others had a bit of solid advice about living.

Folks, our generation and the ones before us, were robbed.

Most of us have family members who would’ve been famous if only we’d had a cell phone to capture their advice.

Growing up, our house was filled with noise and seven children with distinct personalities. We had enough adventures to fill hours of video – how to embrace being the middle child, where to hide money from siblings and how to survive an eccentric father.

My Aunt Bev and Uncle Jim were house flippers decades before Chip and Joanna Gaines. They didn’t pass a house being demolished that they didn’t come away with loads of items my aunt repurposed. They did so as a team and with lots of laughter.

The advice they could’ve filmed covered a variety of topics. Some could’ve been how to find valuable antiques in an off-the-beaten-path shop and others about how to rewire a house. They could’ve made a fortune.

My uncles could’ve entertained every outdoorsperson in the world with their fishing and hunting videos. The adventure they had looking for Jean Lafitte’s buried treasure would’ve gone viral overnight.

My cousin, Sylvia, is nine months older than me and had a fresh outlook on life as a teenager. She calmly and quietly worked for social change and always sought the good in people.

Sylvia is still the calmest person I know and lives the words she told us so many years ago – love unconditionally, embrace life and never miss a chance to celebrate. If she’d had a platform, she would’ve had a million followers.

Most moms back in the day could’ve easily hosted a YouTube channel. One fashion video would be entitled “you’re not going to wear that, are you?” The follow-up would be what to wear to a wedding, a funeral, a dance – all the places where we wonder what the words “casual chic” mean.

My mom loved telling me “All the kids are wearing this.” She’d be holding up something hideous.  Maybe if she’d had a platform, thousands would’ve thought her fashion choices were perfect and Mom would’ve been right – all the kids would’ve been wearing that.

If I would’ve had a cell phone and a platform years ago, I could’ve influenced mothers of boys. My parenting videos could include “this is what I found under my son’s bed this morning” and “let’s see how many orphaned socks we find in the couch cushions today.”

Other topics could’ve been prizes for contests boys love to compete in – who can belch the most times in a row and the number of times they can wear the same pair of socks without washing them.

I could’ve given advice to working moms on how to trick your child into believing the store-bought cupcakes you took up to his classroom were really home-made. Or how to get the Tooth Fairy off the hook when she forgets to put a few dollars under your child’s pillow.

Social influencers aren’t anything new. Their audience has simply gotten bigger. I’d pit aunts, uncles and parents with a sense of humor against any of these 20 somethings any day of the week.

Then we’d see who’d be living on Easy Street.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.