Small Observations: Letters (the 9th of July, 2013)

In which I discuss the beauty and majesty that is the hand written letter.

Handwritten letters are pretty neat.

 

This is what I wrote, three days ago, in a frantic document detailing the handful of observations I have had in the past couple of weeks. I didn’t want to forget the ones I had remembered, so I wrote them down in the nervous and clustered shape I had found them in and continued on my merry way. In other words, I used “neat” to describe handwritten letters and I left it at that.

 

I don’t think that’s a fair and accurate representation of the marvelous work handwritten letters can do for people. I think there’s something extraordinary and beautiful about the miracle that is the handwritten letter. Nothing can replace it: emails, texts, and Facebook messages don’t even come close. The handwritten letter is the pinnacle of human conversation that doesn’t occur face-to-face. I can’t think of another form of communication that stitches care into every syllable than the handwritten letter.

 

Perhaps I am a romantic. Perhaps I’ve taken the elegance of the handwritten letter too far. Or perhaps I care to remember the postcards, the pen pals, and any other form of handwritten letter that wasn’t because of a celebration (i.e. a Christmas card or a birthday card). Perhaps I have attempted to keep them, every single letter I have received, because they really are that magical in my life. I am a bit young to remember the handwritten letter when it was at its peak of popularity, but I’ve gotten enough of a taste to know just how spectacular it is.

 

I’m far too young to appreciate them, you say. I counter, remembering that I have a far greater appreciation for receiving a letter. I am among the generation of people who were raised with computers, with the first steps of email and text messaging. I am among the people who coined the terms LOL and ROFL. So whenever I peered into the mailbox and saw a letter, a real letter made out of paper and graphite-slash-ink, I felt joy far exceeding the joy I feel whenever I get a new email. Letters just don’t come that often, and the ones that are even fewer in number (the dying breed, if you will) are the handwritten letters.

 

The truth is that we just don’t have reason to send them anymore. They’re old-fashioned, slow, and they require thought and care. We don’t place a stamp on a letter unless it’s a bill or a special occasion. We just don’t have the time and we don’t want to waste the energy.

 

Perhaps this is just an American thing. Perhaps, in another country, they have kept up the tradition. Perhaps all I need to do in order to escape the emptiness of not receiving handwritten letters is to pack up my belongings and move to England or China or Canada. I’m sure there are plenty of good schools in Canada.

 

Nevertheless, I think the world could use more handwritten letters. I think we could all benefit from remembering and appreciating their design. I think it’s so easy to forget how much care goes into every word, every sentence, and every page. Well, we have computers and cell phones now; I know it’s easy to forget these things.

 

At the end of the day, I think we have forgotten how much human interaction should mean to us. We hold doors open for people carrying too many things but we forget why. We help old ladies cross the street but we forget why. We smile and talk to strangers on an elevator but we forget why. Why should we care about people we don’t know? Why should we spend our time and talents making their lives a little easier?

 

Why, you ask? Because it’s written in our souls (our code, our genes, what have you) to care and love other human beings. We want to help them simply because it’s the right thing to do. Perhaps this is a little too optimistic. I truly believe this, though.

 

And the handwritten letter reminds us how much we love and care for other human beings, but now it’s tangible. We can hold the love and care in our hands while smelling the paper and breathing it in. We see the handwriting and signature of love and care. It might be something short, like on a postcard �" “Do you remember coming to this lighthouse?” �" but it took time to think of the words, real time, and it took time to deliver the letter and it took time for you to read those words and think about them.

 

Because love and care takes time, and that’s what the emails and texts and Facebook messages lack. They lack the time, and therefore they lack the love and the care.

 

And that’s why you should never break up with someone over text. Because those words deserve so much more care than what a text can deliver. It’s heartless, translating your words into cold and meaningless words, nothing more and nothing less. Furthermore, you should never fight with someone over text. It lacks the care and complexity words require in those times of turmoil.

 

I think we’ve all heard the complications that texts bring us. We can send and receive messages faster, and that’s fine and dandy. But we cannot see the person we’re communicating with. We honestly don’t know if he/she’s happy or sad or worried or scared or bitter. We are just unable to know what that person is feeling through text. It’s a dangerous thing.

 

Now, I’m not saying that handwritten letters can be full of lies and deceit as well. I just think there is so much more commitment to a letter, so much more compassion, that I probably wouldn’t be writing a letter to someone I despised. I can text someone I don’t like because it’s easy. Writing a letter takes time and it is so much more difficult.

 

These days, we aren’t getting up early in order to send letters to our worst enemies.

 

I have nothing more to say on my observation of handwritten letters. These are small observations, anyhow. I shouldn’t be expected to write pages upon pages on these silly topics. The fact I have written over a thousand words on the art of the handwritten letter is, by itself, a victory.

 

Overall, I’d say this was a success, as far as successes during the summer go.

 

Stay classy, ladies and gentlemen.  

Author's Note

Let me know.