(Originally Published Thursday, August 8, 2013 – Blogger: One Daughter’s Point of View)
Growing up, my best friend in the first grade moved away. It was just one county over, but for a six year old it may as well have been across the ocean. After she moved we wrote letters to each other. It was like discovering a gem in the mailbox when I’d get another letter. I also had a cousin living in another state, and we’d write to each other too. Pretty stationary was a common gift and purchase for me growing up. But today, the idea of writing a letter is almost as antiquated as the horse and buggy.
I recently discovered some letter correspondence between my grandmother and aunt (that same cousin’s mother) after my aunt’s family had moved out of state. It wasn’t an extraordinary letter, but it talked about daily life in the mid-1970s of a suburban housewife. Someone may find it interesting one day in the same way we enjoy reading the journals of early settlers or the correspondence between sweethearts during World War II. They never thought they were writing anything extraordinary, but it’s a treasure of information for later generations. I wish I’d kept more of my younger correspondence. It would be interesting to re-read about my thoughts and anxieties at such a tender age.
My brother recently had a birthday while he was deployed overseas with the National Guard. I encouraged my nephew to pick out a card to mail to him. He accommodated because it was his dad’s birthday after all. But when I suggested he pick out a card or write him a letter for no obvious reason, my nephew thought I’d lost my marbles (– or maybe I should say PS3, since I think marbles went out of style long before letters did!). The concept of writing a simple note in this age of email and instant messaging was one that he just simply couldn’t grasp. He was genuinely perplexed at the idea.
I wrote by my brother and sister-in-law a letter each day they were deployed. I have no idea if they kept any of them once returning home. But I do know that they enjoyed the tangible, personal effort the letter represented the day they received them. And that they did keep and re-read them while deployed, something they could do even when the Internet lines were down, or it was too late/early to call home. And I suppose that if they did keep them after returning back to the states, one day my nephew will discover them in his dad’s belongings and be amused at the thoughts and anxieties of his middle-aged aunt. He may even stumble across a story or two about himself that he’d forgotten. Maybe then he’ll wish he’d written more letters.
A Robynn’s Chirps 