A LOST ART AND A LESSON RE-LEARNED!

A POSTCARD FROM MY AUNT ELLEN'S SCRAPBOOK

For years I was a prolific letter writer.  Friends sometimes asked me how I managed to find things to write about.  For me it was like sitting next to a friend and sharing thoughts and ideas and dreams. I felt like I was actually talking to that friend and sharing a love of writing. It often filled a void in my own life and made me feel connected with those friends and pen pals a world away.  Getting a letter in the mailbox was a real joy. At the end of the day when my kids were tucked in bed, I couldn’t wait to have my own time and sit in a quiet corner with a cup of coffee or tea, some interesting stationery, a special pen, and a story to tell.  Sometimes those pages went on for days and I almost didn’t want the letter to end. It felt like a major accomplishment when the letter was finally in the mail, at which point I could visualize my friend at the other end having a similar experience upon receiving it.

Lately I’ve resorted more often to e-mails to stay in touch with friends and I’ve enjoyed that immensely.  But I’ve also disappointed some special friends who don’t use or like computers.  That used to be me.  Yes, I’ve been busy with grandchildren, trips around the city, family concerns, and even writing on my own blog, but I now realize what I’ve been missing.  Letter writing is perhaps a lost art in many ways, but it’s a delight in many others. Nearly a year ago I realized that more than ever. I had owed a special pen pal in Connecticut a letter and when I looked at the postmark of her last letter, dated seven months earlier, I felt guilty that I hadn’t written. I finally sent out a short letter.  Not long afterwards I received a letter from Connecticut that had handwriting I didn’t recognize.  I was a little confused, but when I opened it and read the first few lines, I was filled with sadness.  My friend’s husband wrote to tell me that she had died unexpectedly of a stroke months earlier.  At that moment I realized what her friendship and faithful letters had meant to me.  I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had let her down.  We shared so many common interests, including genealogy, and my ancestors who initially came to this country settled in the area where she lived.  She had even offered to go to New Haven to do some research for me. We had written back and forth for over twenty-two years and it was painful to think that I would never receive a letter from her again.  Like me, she loved reading and even had a small volunteer library named after her.  What a dear friend! How I miss her letters.

I’m now trying to find the balance between writing e-mails and handwritten letters.  I used to think that letters always had to be long and filled with news and personal thoughts, but I’ve decided that it’s more important that my friends know that I’ve thought of them and want to stay connected. Years ago my English friend Angie came for a visit and wrote in my journal book.  She chose the page that quoted Ada Leverson, an English writer, “You don’t know a woman until you have had a letter from her.”  I chuckled when I recently re-read it and exclaimed to myself, “How true!" This time I won't forget it.