Nothing says Happy Birthday better than a Facebook account.

I woke last Friday to three or four dozen congratulatory notes to mark the occasion. It was wonderful to be remembered by friends, cousins, high school peers and more. Over the course of the day I got virtual slices of cake, e-cards and lots and lots of comments. My sister sent two talking dogs who spoke through a script she’d written. (The terrier said “Dana” with a soft a in both spots – much like “Tada”!) My brother in Alaska made a Skype video call with the kids and sent a pre-recorded video card sent via Flip Cards. In an extraordinary gesture my Aunt Liz in Princeton sent me a long, personalized email. It was wonderfully overwhelming!

Of course I am pleased but a part of me remembers pre-social media birthdays. I’m one of those people who have a box with all his correspondence. I developed a close friendship with the late John Hoover when he lived in San Francisco and I was in New York. We used to write eight or nine page letters back and forth. While I didn’t keep every birthday card I kept the ones that mattered.

Maybe that’s the next digital application – a virtual treasure chest where you can permanently keep all your neat stuff. I have photos on Flickr and updates on Facebook and three years worth of blog postings. But nowhere do I have a consolidation of my life on-line.

Many say this is where social media is heading – a borderless world where we have one experience versus multitudinous accounts. And in that space I can have my Alaska video and my aunt’s email – and even the phonic-challenged dog (I worry his pronunciation will improve in the next upgrade and I want to save his current voice). I can limit which audiences have access to which parts. Current work colleagues are all joined in Linked In but none are invited into Facebook.

It won’t replace the mantelpiece full of Hallmark cards or the ribbon-tied bundle of letters. (And I’m not sure how the next generation’s Demi Moore will get misty-eyed as she spends a night going over her dead husband’s correspondence. Will that be on a Kindle?)

But what a Facebook birthday lacks in ever-lasting quality it sure makes up for in quantity. I miss the paper cards and letters. But I love the overwhelming number of people who made my birthday one to remember – even if I can’t put them in a box to linger over later.