How many generations to go until the term “pen pal” is considered to be quaint and archaic? It seems already that writing a real honest-to-goodness letter on nice stationery and sending it on its way in a stamped envelope has almost lost its charm. Get off my lawn, you kids, and go write a letter!!
Don’t get me wrong – I love the almost-immediacy of email. But for elegant communication, is anything better than a hand-written letter? And for a keepsake worthy of treasuring, can anything match a folded, unfolded, refolded sheet of paper tucked into a matching envelope? Can anything evoke a feeling, an event, a memory quite like this very personal correspondence? I think not.
Once upon a time eons ago, I left home and joined the Navy. In Recruit Training (or Boot Camp, if you prefer) we were required to write home once a week, so that the commander of the base wasn’t hassled with phone calls from concerned parents wondering if their baby was still alive. The recruit who distributed letters at Mail Call was charged with collecting and accounting for letters from each member of the company. No excuses.
Mail call – what a glorious daily event that was! In the foreign environment of a huge barracks space where privacy was non-existent, getting a letter or card from friends of family was a respite from marching and shoe shining and floor waxing and whatever other duties were required of us. I used to write lots of letters – to family and friends former teachers – telling them tales of training and the women I lived among. When I graduated and moved on to other commands for training or duty, I continued to write many times a week. I loved shopping for new styles of writing paper. I bought stamps by the roll, and used them up pretty fast. I loved writing and receiving letters.
There was a particular teacher I’d had such a crush on when he was my 9th grade student teacher in French class, and we carried on a correspondence for several years after he’d graduated. I’d kept ever letter he’d ever written to me – I bet to this day, I’d recognize his handwriting. But somewhere along the line, I lost all of those letters, and I’ve long since lost track of him. Ah well…
Not too long ago, an old boyfriend scanned and emailed to me a letter I’d written to him 15 years earlier. I don’t remember writing it, but it brought back to me exactly what was going on in my life when I set pen to paper. Sadly, it was the only one he had left from me – it wasn’t a mushy note or anything – just a newsy missive, and I’d have loved to see more from that time of my life.
After a classmate of mine from college graduated (he was 6 months behind me) and he eventually wound up on an aircraft carrier in the Mediterranean, I wrote to him fairly often. I loved getting creative with his letters. I wrote one entirely in mirrored script (that was really hard on the hand!) I wrote another in a spiral around the paper – it’s more difficult than it sounds. But the best one was when I bought a writing tablet like 1st graders use and a box of crayons. I wrote him a fairly long letter in my best little kid penmanship, changing colors for each sentence or word or line. One of his squadron mates said “I didn’t know you had a kid!” To which my friend replied “I don’t – this is from another Purdue grad!”
On another of his deployments, I sent him a joke form letter of rejection from Playgirl magazine that ended with the line “PS – That was an interesting pose you chose. Were you injured in the war, or do you ride a bicycle a lot?” I didn’t put my return address, and I signed a fake name, but somehow, he figured out it was from me – can you imagine?? In reply, he sent me a photo of his butt with a happy face drawn on one cheek, and he signed the letter “Wardog Naval Aviator” – I almost hurt myself laughing. In fact, I’ve still got his letter and the photo somewhere. I offered it to his wife when I finally got a chance to show it to her, but she insisted I keep it.
As a postscript, it turns out his squadron mate who drew the happy face on his butt used an indelible marker, so a couple weeks later when my friend had to go in for his flight physical, the doctor thought he was being a smart ass…
Moving on - when we were packing for one of our many moves, I came across a letter my husband had written to me when I was deployed to Spain shortly after we got married. He was talking about wanting to have a baby. It made me smile just to read that again.
The closest thing I get to letters any more are the much-maligned Holiday Letters that a few folks still tuck into Christmas cards. I should probably write one myself, since a lot has happened in our family, but it’s not quite the same. I won’t do it by hand. I won’t personalize it for each recipient. Frankly, I probably won’t do it anyway. And that makes me sad.
But mostly, I’m saddened that I don’t have a box of letters to be cherished and read over and over again. Email just isn’t the same. There’s something far more satisfying about slitting open an envelope that can’t be matched by clicking on the Inbox. And the handwriting itself conveys more than any emoticons or “LOL” could ever hope to share. Sometimes there’s even a slight scent – perfume or cologne, or just the musty old paper scent that can’t be matched by any software.
And such a small thing can make such a difference in a person’s day. Maybe we should take a little time and write a letter or two. Maybe it’ll catch on again??
Happy Monday.
