Remember way back when, how people used to hand-write letters, thank-yous, and other correspondence? Back in my teen years I had actual pen pals — friends who moved away, or had obtained through a Girl Scout pen pal registry, one of whom was in England! Not so exotic now, but in those days it certainly was. It was so much fun reading the letters, with the anticipation of waiting a month or more for yours to be returned. And, of course, the challenge of writing your own.
We don’t have that now. We have instant communication through social media and email. I think nowadays we are talking *at* each other more than talking *with* each other.
I know I have always been guilty of failing to send them. My cousin always did without fail, and it made me feel terrible about my own habits. I made my kids send them for the important things at least, like graduation gifts. I wish I’d done more of that.
This morning I got one of those long, hand-written thank-you notes in beautiful handwriting. I was not expecting it. All I did was bake a batch of brownies for someone who was recovering from an injury. But reading it made me think about how this lost art really does make someone’s day, when it still happens. And that maybe it shouldn’t be such a lost art.
I run across personal letters all the time in my boxes of stuff for my antique shop. Once at an auction there was a whole box of air-mail correspondence from WWII (I didn’t get it, although I was tempted). Even postcards have nice notes on them. Does anyone still know *how* to compose a letter to a friend these days? I wonder. Think of this, too — the current crop of children is not even learning to write cursive. With so little hand-written correspondence, there’s no need.
Just some thoughts on this rainy morning.