Every morning, images carrying greetings and pictures of girls, cute animals, or beautiful flowers are circulated among Taiwanese older people on the messaging app LINE. These “good morning images” (GM images) are building a new social network for seniors, and its ritual of exchange has produced a digital subculture. In this article, I will be considering these images as “memes of care.” While memes for younger people are usually humorous and meant to raise a laugh, for older people, GM images are about care and connection. However, care is never innocent and not always desirable, and GM images have joined a sharing culture within LINE that precipitates the spread of unverified, authorless rumors. By examining the “care-ful” feelings, doings, and obligations of GM images, I show how older people actively participate in the practice of digital care so as to open up to “as well as possible” reconfigurations engaged with troubled presents—that is, the pandemic and social isolation on the one hand, and the proliferation of false and misleading information on the other.
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“Line!”Footnote1 chimed the sound effect that signaled a new message received on the messaging app LINE. It was around nine o’clock in the morning when Mei received the message from a friend in a chat group of her old high school classmates. It was a picture of a cartoon girl with a mask on, and the text on the image read: “Good morning. Although the pandemic is relentless, people are compassionate. This digital greeting sends you my care. I hope you and I are both good.” Mei was 64 and had lived alone with her dog in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, since her retirement from an office job. Her husband had died, and her two children had moved out to other parts of the city after marriage. She had gotten used to such a solitary life and tried to keep herself busy with fitness classes, karaoke with friends, and dog walking until the COVID-19 pandemic upset that balance. Although much later than most places around the world, Taiwan experienced its first major COVID-19 outbreak in May 2021, and the government soon enforced a “soft” lockdown that shut down all schools and recreational venues and prohibited indoor dining. All Mei’s in-person classes and dates were canceled, and her children were restrained from visiting her to prevent potential virus transmission. The only time she walked out of the apartment was her daily dog-walking routine, which was the first thing she did every morning. Now she had returned from the walk and started to prepare her breakfast. She brewed herself a cup of coffee, turned on the TV news, and lay back on the sofa with a bowl of fruit and some bread. The news was all about the pandemic, lockdowns, and vaccines, but she was not really paying attention to it. She had her mobile phone in hand and her family and friends connected through the digital, virus-free internet signal. Eight to nine o’clock was the busiest time in the morning, when daily greetings with zǎoān tú 早安圖 (good morning images; hereinafter: GM images) were shared around people of her age. She chose one image she particularly liked from all those she had received that morning and forwarded it to around 15 or so chat rooms filled with family and friends. She did not forget to choose another image to forward to the chat room from where she’d got her first GM image. An exchange ritual of good mornings was completed in a few clicks, linking people in the circle of digital care.
