Many of us save our money and Air Miles to meet in person. Some of us holiday together. Some of us fall in love. Some of us marry. And while that might sound ludicrous or spooky to the uninitiated, think about this: people who conduct a romance online spend on the average about two hours a day (not counting e-mails) talking to each other. Talking. About issues, about feelings, about ideals, about memories, about goals. All the courtship time taken up in the soulful gazing into each others' eyes (which, granted, most online couples would give their eyeteeth to experience) is used for much more intellectually and emotionally filled communication. I have no doubt that I already know more about the man I am planning to spend the rest of my life with (with whom I have spent more time online than off) than the stranger I was married to for eleven years.

The greatest criticism that is levelled at online communities is that becoming enmeshed in one somehow isolates you from the real world. The sad response to this argument is that this world is a pretty cold place for a lot of people. You don't have to be stuck in a trapper's cabin to feel the fever. It is just as isolating being a frighteningly clever high school student in a world of party animal drones, or an unappreciated housewife, or a telecommuter without a coffee room to head to on a break. I know an older man who only buys enough groceries for a couple of days at a time, even though he has a car and could get better value buying in greater quantities. Why? Because sometimes the grocery clerk is the only person he speaks over the course of a day.

Imagine being a newly separated woman with children. Monetarily, you can't afford to get a baby-sitter and go out for the evening. Psychologically, you can't take the silence, or the need to air your feelings. Morally, you can't talk to people on the phone for fear of your children overhearing something that might paint their father in a bad light. Earlier, I spoke of the 'Net saving my life. Well, that woman was me. Dazed and lost, and relatively new to the chat experience, I was taken under the wing of two women who knew exactly what I was going through. They consoled, they counselled, and they cajoled me out of my valley. Because they were there, my real-time friends don't cringe when they see me coming, my children have weathered one of life's greater traumas unscathed, and I've saved literally hundreds of dollars in mascara and café lattes. As a result, and because of the many other wonderful people I've since met online, I am a firm believer in the online community, the true global village.

From where I sit, here in front of my monitor, I am in the center of a vibrant, brave new world. Who could have imagined that Edmonton, Alberta would one day be a common reference point for people as far-flung as Cyprus, Melbourne, or Massachusetts? Well, I suppose Marshall McLuhan did. After all, he was born right here, in my home town.

ON BEING A GOOD CITIZEN ->