I can’t help thinking how sad it is to lose the art of letter-writing. The following was posted September 2012 in Red Room, but my feelings still remain the same.

Letters. I love getting letters–hand-written ones or typed, but not email or text messages. I love the genuine, honest-to-goodness, thoughtfully written letters recording the sender’s thoughts, caring messages, anecdotes or simple “Hello” with love.  I don’t get too many letters anymore. Many of my friends prefer a quick e-mailed message knowing this will be received as soon as they press “Send.” I like sitting down and writing–yes, writing a letter back. This gives me my “quiet” moment to write about what my family and I are doing, the amusing incident(s) I/we had experienced and return a caring response of loving concern.

Some people blame the cost of postage and the trouble of getting the card or letter posted in a real mailbox–not a virtual one. Others don’t seem to have the time to sit down to write a letter. They prefer to e-mail.

I like reading letters. In researching historical background, it’s wonderful to find a bundle of letters that paints a picture of what’s happened in the past. This is akin to finding lost treasure. It can give a glimpse of family, social events, political happenings and even the humour of misinterpreted local news.

I think it’s sad we won’t be able to leave much in the way of genuine letters that documents what life is like in the 21st Century. There is something very special in handling paper and reading someone’s news or happenings in their lives. Somehow, videos and You-tube aren’t the same.

My Mom and Mother-in-law both wrote great letters. By the time we finished reading it, Hubby and I got an entertaining picture of what our parents were doing. My brother wrote terrific letters too. It was often thoughtful, funny and filled with his commentaries on his work and home life. I guess my whole family are letter-writers since our parents never entered the computer age. I think too, that coming from a thrifty generation, my parents used long-distance phone calls sparingly, usually in cases of family emergencies, so letters were the means to keep track of all my siblings.  One of my friends also wrote when she had time. At the time, she had five young sons. Often, her entertaining letters were filled with the activities and antics of her boys, her busy life which was never boring and her hopes of eventually becoming a notary, which she successfully accomplished.

Yes, it does take time to sit and compose a letter. But the fun of writing letters to the person worthy of receiving it is knowing you’ll be getting an eventual response back. Excuse me while I go check my mail-box–the real one, not the virtual one. My snail-mail has arrived.