Mail Call

Who can forget the twinge of anticipation at expecting a letter? One by one, as the names were called, the suspense became almost unbearable. We held our breathe, crossed our fingers, hoping to hear ours. When we did, the excitement was palpable. Cradling the small paper rectangle that carried the precious pages written in the hand of a loved one or friend, we rushed back to our bunk and gingerly peeled it open. It would be hard for the modern electronic mavens of today to comprehend the concept of paper to pen to heart and mind, the sheer joy of knowing that you are loved and missed, and the despondence and disappointment of being bypassed.

Now, the unfolding began. Slowly, peeking at the pages to recognize the writing, the waiting was over. The words seemed to leap off the pages, increasing emotions to a crescendo. Yet they were just words. No, they were more than that. Each one was carefully crafted to convey a silent voice, and it was the readers task to decode the concepts and translate them back to the original inspiration of the writer.

And the contents of those packets weren't limited to paper. Anything that fit was fair game: flowers, pictures from home, other surprises selected by the sender: a lock of hair, a human touch unattainable by any other mode of transmission. Something as simple as a caring card could transport the recipient's spirit in a way that cannot be duplicated in digital format.

Composition was key. Only the perfect words would do. Curled up in a corner with pen and paper, creative juices flowing. Trying to imagine how the reader would receive and react to your tome. The occasional poem. And when words failed, illustrations illuminated. Simple line drawings, as delicate or detailed as deemed necessary to connect.

In a way, letters are like magic carpets, upon which we can fly, back and forth through time. We all have our secret stashes, ages old, some from departed souls, all from those with whom we've shared our lives. Read and re-read, over and over, opening unnecessary. Just holding them in our hands and reminiscing can bring a laugh or tear.

But in this era of instant messaging, the art of hand-made correspondence teeters on the brink of extinction, irrelevant written relics, and must be rescued from the Web. Now is the time to act! Put down that laptop, find your lost cache of stationary, and write to someone. Anyone. Just write.