I’m trying to remember the last time I wrote a letter. I mean a REAL letter. Actual writing – with a pen or pencil in my hand. I scribbled a short note to be included with some material I recently mailed to a colleague. I don’t know if that counts. I don’t think so.
I’ve recently met someone who has actually self-published a book of letters he began writing when his daughter left for college. He started writing these letters – every 7 to 10 days – not only because he wanted her to have news from home, but also – and perhaps more importantly – because he wanted her to have an actual hand-written letter. Family and friends learned of the letters and asked for copies until his “mailing list” grew to something like 50-plus people.
I used to write letters. A lot of letters. In fact, I think I may be among the last generation to have had actual “pen pals.” We found each other in the back pages of pop culture magazines and were typically aligned by love of a similar band. For several years I corresponded with a woman in Oregon who also loved the Police. Then there was my Australian pen pal. I have no idea which band we had in common, but boy-oh-boy did I have a crush on him. Which only intensified when he sent me an audio tape – thick Aussie accent. Yum-my! But I digress… the point is that we all wrote letters to each other. Long letters – sometimes four or more pages.
And then my family got cable. And MTV. And that was the end of all that.
And now we blog. Writing to no one and everyone. Or we email and IM and text. I want to reserve judgment, but I am inclined to think the loss of letter writing is a bad thing. I asked the gentleman mentioned above if he had considered bloging - if for no other reason, but to save on postage and paper expenses. We were on the phone at the time, but I could almost see his disappointed expression. He said simply, “no,” and he didn’t need to say more. Despite what he probably thinks, I do get it.
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