How many of us take the time or even think about handwriting a letter today? It has been so long since I handwrote more than a brief thank-you note, I honestly cannot remember. It is easier to text, email, or type a letter on the computer and print it.
I mentioned in my July e-newsletter that I have been decluttering. I have attempted this chore many times in the past with limited success; however, I am on a tear this time.
I should have taken “before” and “after” pictures. I should have weighed how much stuff I donated to the thrift shop. I should have weighed the two recycle bins that were so heavy with paper and magazines that I could scarcely push them out to the road for pick up. I should have weighed the countless bags of trash. I shredded old documents until I thought our paper shredder would start to smoke.
My parents were in college when The Great Depression began. They had to make their way in this world on little money and no luxuries. Their background meant they instilled in me the value of a dollar and one should never throw away anything because “you might need it or be able to use it later.”
I am once again living in the house they built in 1960, so there are many boxes and closet shelves to go through now.
It is a freeing experience to unburden oneself from the accumulation of stuff. As I blogged about on July 1, 2024 ( Books read in June 2024), I was inspired by reading Stop Buying Bins & Other Blunt but Practical Advice from a Home Organizer, by Bonnie Borromeo Tomlinson.
I’m not saying this is the end-all be-all book about decluttering, downsizing, or rightsizing. All I know is that it was the right book for me at the right time.
One unexpected benefit or result of my current decluttering binge was the rediscovery of handwritten letters. If you have lost a parent and had a good relationship with that person, you have probably felt that tug on your heart when you come across something in their handwriting.
Perhaps you found a recipe your mother wrote on an index card or scrap of paper. Perhaps it was nothing more than your father’s signature on a document. My father was a structural steel draftsman, so he usually printed. I can readily recognize his precise printing, whether it be on a blueprint or genealogy notes he made, but it is special when I find his signature because it, of course, is in cursive.
In going through decades of stuff this summer, I have come across birthday cards signed by my parents, various aunts and uncles, and dear childhood friends who are no longer with us. Some have brought a lump to my throat and a sting to my eyes as tears begin to form. Those cards are set aside and not yet tossed in the trash or recycle bin. Someday that’s where they’ll land, but not today.
The lost art I referenced in today’s blog title is the handwritten letter. I have found many of the letters my mother wrote to me while I was away in college and in my early 20s when I found employment several hours from home. I was struck by the contrast between that time in the 1970s and early 1980s as compared to today.
Today parents text or call their children who are in college or have otherwise left home and struck out to make their way in the world. They think nothing of making that phone call or sending that text. When I was in college and during my young adult years it was expensive to call “long distance.” You had to have a very good reason for calling home when I was in college.
There was one telephone on the wall in the hallway in my freshman dorm. I knew if I received a call from my parents, it was probably to relay bad news or something that couldn’t wait two or three days for them to tell me in a letter. And there were no long conversations because every minute cost money.
I am so glad that’s the way it was because it means today I can reread all those letters my mother wrote. Today’s college students and young adults will not have such tangible memorabilia.
Several years ago, my sister and I helped a friend organize in archival binders and archival sleeves the letters he and his wife wrote to one another while he was in the military service as a fighter pilot in World War II and the Korean War. He will turn 100 years old in October. He calls occasionally to thank us again for what we did. He lives alone and the days and nights are lonely. He says he finds great comfort and joy in opening those binders and reading those letters.
We have photocopies of portions of letters one of our great-grandfathers wrote to his parents and sister while he was serving in the military during the American Civil War. How valuable those letters are to us!
While going through a box of papers last week, I came across a typewritten letter from my eldest first cousin from some 30 years ago. She was much older than I. In that letter, she shared some recollections of her mother’s. (Her mother was my father’s eldest sister and was 14 years older than he.) I had forgotten about the letter, so it was new and fresh as I read it last week.
From the letter I learned that my grandmother won prizes for her jams, jellies, canned fruits, eggs, and Rhode Island chickens. Since my grandmother died 23 years before I was born, I never knew her. However, that one sentence in my cousin’s letter gave me a beautiful glimpse into my grandmother’s life that I would not have known otherwise.
It is nice today that we can call a friend or relative and hear their voice, but in the process of making our communications so easy and instant we have lost the art of letter writing.
Do you still write letters to loved ones and friends who live faraway? Do you still have letters you have received?
For now, I’m holding on to those letters from my mother. The day might come when I’m ready to part with them, but today is not that day.
Until my next blog post
Is there someone who would appreciate a hand-written note or letter from you this week?
I will continue to go through boxes and closets and the basement. This decluttering/rightsizing thing isn’t a sprint; it’s a marathon. I have only just begun!
I hope to get back to work on my Seasonal Affective Disorder devotional book this week.
I hope you have a good book to read.
Don’t forgot the people of Ukraine.
Janet
Janet's Writing Blog 