When I wrote my college history thesis back in 1990 I spent hours poking around the stacks at Alderman Library. It was dank, musty, and oh so very creepy. I had to cite primary resources, and there was no such thing as the Internet. I endured many a paper cut thumbing through old letters, yearbooks, newspaper articles, and journals. My topic was the Anti Vietnam War Movement at the University of Virginia. I wanted to see how the good ol’ boys reacted compared to their co-eds and compatriots at shall we say, more liberal institutions where students didn’t don neckties to go to football games. It was both a lofty and limited topic.
After I printed my thesis in the computer lab I probably whisked off a letter to my parents telling them I had turned in a year’s worth of research whittled down to a ream of paper too thick to be stapled. No email back then. No cell phones. No texting. Long distance calls were pricey. Stamps were cheap. Back in the day we wrote letters. Longhand. In ink, because pencil smears. It was common to receive gifts of monogrammed stationery before departing for college back then.
When I was in boarding school we used to rush to the student union after class to check our mailboxes. There’s no sadder day than when all your friends have a stack of mail in hand while your box sits empty. Mail was our tonic that made being away from home more palatable. Mail made us feel special, loved, missed. I remember penning letters eight pages front and back to my friends back home. Years later when I lived in Germany for a year I coveted mail the same way I did in boarding school. I could count on weekly posts from my trusty friends Nancy and Phoebe. Hunter and Ric chimed in a few times, and several others sent steady streams of news from home. This was a time when birthday cards had long notes written inside, not just the cursory “love, me.” One of the things I love most about the holidays is not a chimney sweep courtesy of St. Nick. What I love more is a visit from the postman who brings us oodles of snail mail. It’s the one time a year we get handwritten envelopes and stamps (never mind the oft boring year end recap letter…I’m not a fan of those). Isn’t it wonderful to get mail that brings news and joy and memories, not just bills and power washing coupons?
When my brother and I were little we collected stamps. We each had a little album where we painstakingly categorized, traded, and pasted our stamps. We were fortunate to have family all over the world and well traveled parents who wrote to us from corners near and far. I don’t know what ever happened to those stamp books. I suppose kids don’t collect stamps anymore. Maybe they collect Foursquare badges these days. Stamps, like the greetings they ushered in, represent the most beautiful nugget of personal communication. The time it takes to pen a note is full of effort, thought, and personalization. No chance of mail merge or copy and paste to fake personalization. The stamps were beautiful and carried the mark of images from whence they came. And the stamp quite literally carried the DNA of the sender since you had to lick the ghastly paste back then. And let’s not forget the spritz of perfume for good measure. What? You never wrote letters to a boy away at camp with a squirt of Tabu on the paper, only to get a response from him saying “Your Wind Song stays on my mind?” Um, me neither. Prince Matchabelli be damned.
My point is that while technology is dandy, it hasn’t replaced the joy of paper. I don’t feel the same rush when I see the envelope icon in my inbox lit up that I do when I see handwritten script on personalized stationery in my mail box. And oh, the joys of stationery! I have a stationery wardrobe and I can’t resist cute monogrammed notes for Bird and Deal. Yes, they send hand written thank you notes. And not the fill-in-the-blank cheater kind. The digital age is grand. But there are definitely downsides.
If you love the anticipation of tearing into a handwritten letter as much as I do, if you tie up old letters in a red satin ribbon and relish the life they chronicle, take a moment to write to someone you care about. For just a moment, tuck away her email address and pull out her home address. You won’t regret it. And you’ll send someone over the (paper) moon.
Letter rule and I have to make such a conscious effort to write them myself. I’m not great about it at this stage in my life but I too have letters my parents wrote me in colllege, the love letters from my courtship with my husband, and all sorts of notes here and there from my years as a mom. I can’t imagine not having them and challenge myself to teach my children to be thoughtful and do the same in spite of technology. There is absolutely no electronic substitue and never should be. Pen to peper is the next best thing to being there ~ thank you for reminding everyone Ilina!
I had this discussion with another friend recently (a kindred spirit to you actually). Like you, I feel overjoyed when someone took the time to send me an actual letter or even a Hallmark card. Those are few & far between but definitely oh so precious. 🙂
What I try to do is write at least ONE hand-written note or card each month because I know the receiver will find joy in it. And truth be told, while I love the ease & quickness of digital correspondence, I too find joy in actually taking the time to slowly and perfectly write in my own handwriting a piece of correspondence that will be both a surprise and a memento to whomever I select to receive it.
Maybe the next time I write one, I’ll include either a spritz of perfume or a little something extra too (depends on who I will write too).
Thanks for the reminder, Ilina. 🙂