Let’s start off with getting everyone on the same page: Snapchat is a phone app in which a person takes a photo, called a Snap, and shares it with one or more of their friends.  What makes Snapchat attractive to its users – teenagers are 1/5 of its audience – is that Snapchat is much more private than any other social media platform.  Snaps disappear immediately after viewing, and comments are seen only by the individual or group recipient.  For my 12-year-old and his friends, this means that they only use text messaging when communicating with their Olds (the vast majority of my texts from Twelve are, “School was good can I go to the gas station”) and spend the rest of the time chatting on Snap.  It also means that if I, said Twelve’s mother, try to monitor his Snap Chats, all I see is a sea of empty open photos and random comments like, “Bruh,” and “Mid,” and “Yah” because photos make up 99% of what is sent via Snap.

Okay?  Okay.

I was minding my own business in the kitchen the other night when Twelve and his friends emerged from the basement and stood in a clump by the table staring at Twelve’s phone.  It buzzed, and a photo of a concrete curbing popped up on the screen.

“They are down the street,” Twelve said.

“Who is down the street?”  I asked.

“No one,” Twelve said.

“Who is down the street?”  I asked Twelve’s Most Likely to Give Up the Goods friend.

“Some girls,” the friend said.

“How can you tell they are down the street from that photo?”  I asked.

“Because it’s our street,” Twelve said, pointing the phone at me and looking vaguely concerned that I was unable to identify my own road.

“That could be any street,” I said.  “It actually looks more like a driveway.”

Now they all looked concerned – however, “some girls” and a piece of concrete were calling, and they must go.

Twelve took a picture of a corner of the kitchen table, and the three headed quickly to the door.

“Where are you going?”  I yelled after them.

“To get my dog,” Twelve’s friend (and our neighbor) shouted back.

“What does the table have to do with that?”  I yelled.

“They know we are coming,” the friend hollered, closing the door.

I peeked out the front window like the creeper I am and watched the boys drag the neighbor’s elderly dog down the road.  As they neared the laneway circle, a group of girls appeared from behind the grassy dike.

Obviously, I am now completely obsessed with this absolutely fascinating skill set – let’s call it photo-based communication – these young people possess.  Since this fateful day, I’ve discovered that, in addition to taking pictures of random objects, they only photograph part of their faces and that also means something.  Is this the future communiqué?  Instead of taking a foreign language in high school, will students across the globe learn the international language of “A picture of a hot dog means you need a ride home”?  Will these blog posts be one of the last bastions of archaic written messaging, relics from an age when people had no other option than to use, bruh, words?

Or…will this go the way of other youthful endeavors?

When I was twelve years old, I was the unequivocal master of the mix tape.  I was so experienced in this area that I was birthday gifted a dual-cassette boombox and a carton of blank tapes because our single-tape boombox simply would not do for my mad skillzz.  My sister and I would lie on my back on the floor of my pink carpeted bedroom listening to the radio for hours upon hours waiting for that magical moment between commercials, call-ins, and crappy songs for that one, perfect morsel of Madonna or Janet Jackson.  We could sense the first note before it had ever crossed a single inch of airwaves, and we’d flip over onto our stomachs, fingers on the Record button, waiting for the millisecond pause when the DJ hit Play.

Once our radio cassette was full, we’d mix.  WE’D MIX.  Weaving in our previously-purchased cassette singles and full-length double-sided cassettes, we’d create majestic musical soundtracks for every possible life event.  “Saturday Mix,” we’d write with our sparkly pink markers.  “Bike Mix.”  “Dance Mix 5.”  “Dance Mix 243.”  “Dance Mix in Case We Ever Want to Take Our Self-Choreographed Living Room-Based Dance Program on the Road.”  “Lemonade Stand Mix.”  We stored all of these mixes in shoeboxes; the universal standard.

Not two years later, compact disc mixes were all the rage – and with them, the ability to develop MORE soundtracks for MORE life events.  When we got engaged, Kyle made not one, not two, not three, but four mix CDs from which to express our burning love.  From those four CDs, I – the unequivocal master of the mix tape – made one perfect CD: “Mrs. Kosior Mix.”

The “Mrs. Kosior Mix” was the last true mix I made before the world went digital and my mad skillzz were no longer necessary or unique.  Today, my music mixes are made by Twelve, who texts me monthly Spotify playlists using billions and zillions of effortless options of music found with a single click, no pink carpet or Record button required.  The latest was called “Hockey Playlist” and had over 200 songs, more than all my hard-earned mix tapes combined.

Maybe Snapchat will go the way of the mixtape.  Maybe mixtapes will become the next Snapchat and, instead of speaking to each other through photos, kids will communicate through the international language of neo-bop jazz.  Maybe mixtapes and Snapchat will both go away and the cool kids will revert back to cave drawings.

In the meantime, however, I’ve taken a picture of the air freshener in my car and Snapped it to my son in the hopes that it means he should make his bed.

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In my opinion, the best part of Snapchat is the filters. The photo above is one of said filters, which I feel accurately portrays my je ne sais quoi.

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This week on North Dakota Today, we talked about a “baby shower” for expectant mothers in Western North Dakota and a chance for boys and girls to take a spin around the rink. (Valley News Live)

Oh, man, I love this: Bismarck Century is hoping to make skating its next inclusive sport. (KFYR TV)

My coworker also went to Texas for the eclipse and said it was one of the most amazing moments of her life. (KFYR TV)

Mark your calendars for the 2024 Time Out Wacipi Powwow! (Valley News Live)

I really, really, really want to talk about this guy on North Dakota Today: Williston’s Will Erickson is at it again with another flag sale. (KFYR TV)

The 6th annual Guns and Hoses hockey game, winner of the best hockey game tournament name according to Amanda Kosior, pitted the Minot Police and Fire Departments against each other in honor of Isaac Louis. (Minot Daily News)

The latest Honor Flight has returned home. (KFYR TV)

Bismarck’s Boy Scouts served up eggs in order to raise money for a trip to New Mexico. (KFYR TV)

In Grand Forks this weekend?  The Pride of the North Bands are putting on a free concert (plus free parking) on Friday. (Facebook)

Ooh, teenage Kyle is going to be jealous: Minot has a Boys’ Volleyball Club. (KX Net)

I put up another video story – this one about embarrassment – on my incredibly popular brand-new YouTube channel alternatively named “The channel with zero views.” (YouTube)

Kyle and his friends, Corey and Kelly, have a podcast called North Dakota After Dark where they talk about youth hockey in North Dakota.  The latest episode is up and is an interview with Max and Margot of a lot of hockey.  Check it out. Bonus: you can watch it on YouTube. (North Dakota After Dark)

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