“Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude and good company,” said Lord Byron. You are alone with a pen and paper, or a laptop and keyboard. You think about the person you’re writing to. You take some time to consider what you want to tell them, how to engage them, ways to share what’s on your mind. Some say writing a letter is a mindfulness practice. I agree. You sit still and pay attention to what comes up inside yourself and share it with someone.
Granted, composing quick emails and skimpy text messages takes less time and money than writing a letter on real paper, sliding it in an envelope, digging up the person’s address, buying a stamp, and handing over your letter to the USPS to deliver. But try it. See what happens.
A life of letters
Have you ever had a penpal? When I was a kid, I had a few: other girl scouts I met at camp, one classmate who moved out of state, a friend of my grandmother who liked sharing her life with me across the miles, her handwriting was pretty shakey, I remember. One of those girlfriends from camp often included a stick of Juicy Fruit gum wrapped in that silver gum paper. She not only spent the $0.06 for the stamp, but also shared her treat. That tangible gift made her letters more fun, and I usually returned the favor with Double Mint gum, her favorite.
All during childhood, I loved getting those letters and anwering them, too. Maybe I got this habit from my mother, who wrote her many siblings all the time. I still like to write once in a while to friends I rarely get to see. Call me old-fashioned, but I haven’t yet caved in to believing that emails and texts have 100% sidelined writing letters, what once was my regular way of staying in touch with far-away friends and family.
Today, I have a couple of shoe boxes full letters from friends and family that I’ve saved for more than thirty years. The voices in these letters still bring connection and comfort right to my heart. Some of those letters were important sources when I wrote my memoir, Undertow.
Letters sing
In a wonderful book, Letters of the Century, edited by Lisa Grunwald and Stephen J. Adler (The Dial Press. 1999), we discover letters written in America 1900-1999. This tome contains a multitude of voices from public servants, inventors, parents, teachers, all sorts of folks who’ve captured private and public moments. The Introduction sets down the value of letter writing, a clear and certain way of preserving history, both private and public. Here’s a peek:
In 1955, the day after Jonas Salk announced that he had found a vaccine for polio, an expectant mother in Nyack, New York, sat down to write him a letter. The gratitude she expressed in this letter still mingles, on its pages, with a note of relief and longing, and echo of recent pain.
The difference between knowing that Americans were grateful to Jonas Salk and reading this letter to him is like the difference between knowing the words of a song and hearing it sung. Letters give history a voice.
Catch your history
Why not preserve some part of your life with a letter to a dear person in your life? Our lives are short and sliding along day after day. What might we want to capture of them? What can we convey in a letter? Gratitude for the friend? Thoughts about your life’s purpose? Or something on the light side, like what you did on your summer vacation? Let your fingers do the work and capture an experience on paper. No special occasion is necessary to do this. An out-of-the-blue letter of friendship can be a delightful surprise in someone’s mailbox.
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Thanks for reading!
Your writer on the wing,
Charlene
Candy Dawson
Charlene, thank you for a lovely electronic post about a very lovely non-electronic activity. The examples you gave are great—and I’m definitely going to enclose a stick of gum in my next letter.
Charlene
cheers to non-electronic activities and pass the gum.
Thanks for checking in, Candy.