The Letter

I received a letter today…

Through the mail. In an envelope, with my name and address written on it. With a stamp and a postmark. Delivered by a letter carrier and deposited into my mailbox. It felt pretty damn special, opening that envelope (spoiler alert: I knew, from what was on the envelope, who the sender was. That also helped to put the smile on my face.)

In time to come, if anyone happens to run across this modest wee blog and read this small missive, they may wonder—what was the big deal? Then, perhaps in trying to answer their own question, they might look at the date of this blog post. Then, if they’re not a follower of history, they may have to look up to see ‘was anything going on in March 2020 to make this significant?’ Then, they’ll see.

As we all practice our ‘social distancing’ (a term that will surely make it into the dictionary this year) the ease with which we can communicate across the hall or across the world has certainly made the experience bearable in many ways. If this was happening in the 1970’s or 1980’s (or even 1990’s for many), things would have been much more complicated. Whether its email, FaceTime™, Zoom™, WhatsApp™, text…the ways and means we are able to connect with one another are many and varied and I only named an infinitesimal number.

It was mostly agreed to have been about 5,000 years ago in the area now referred to as Iraq when we started making our languages visible—creating alphabet systems and forming symbols that had physical, as well as metaphysical, meanings. Small clay tokens, shaped and engraved, most probably for tracking taxes paid or harvests made. Although, there’s even a group of scholars who believe it may have been as long ago as 20,000 years in the area now known as the Congo. Bone artifacts have been found, etched—deliberately, it is felt, with series of lines.

The creation of writing is what changed pre-history into history. It’s a very big deal. More than the now-famous cave paintings which show us animals and even the act of hunting, writing allowed us to gather our thoughts and relate happenings from the past, dreams of a future, or wild imaginings of things only in our own minds. Writing harnesses all of the emotions—anger, fear, frustration, hope, pride, jealousy—all can be brought out into the light. From the black and white of mundane shopping lists to the shock and awe of wizards, dragons, and life on other planets…all of it is possible because of writing. It’s true, most writing currently—whether lists or legends—is done without putting hand to paper. I’m typing this piece right now. I text and type, ‘writing’ to people near and dear, far and wide, on a daily basis. I type the words “I love you” at least a few times each week. Truly meaning it and in complete honesty.

I suppose what brought my hand to my heart and the ‘ahhh’ to my lips when I received my letter was the actual individuality of it. The person didn’t select a font or text size. Some of the letters had funny little loops, others didn’t. Without the option to backspace and delete, there were little scratches showing where their thoughts ran a bit faster than their hand and mistakes were made. Knowing that it had taken the writer a bit of extra time—find paper, a pen, an envelope! A stamp!! Look up my address; don’t forget to get that postal code right! Then, perhaps go out of their way just a little in order to drop it into a mailbox. This wasn’t just about letting me know I was in their thoughts—this took work!

The person who wrote my letter has actually been an inspiration to me in the past. Sometimes in little ways, at others, more significantly. Today, they are once again. I feel the need—the desire—to emulate their action.

Recently society has started calling out appreciation for those who are often overlooked—cashiers and cleaners, clerks in stores, people who—it turns out—we need in order to keep things ticking over. While the majority of us have been asked to pull away from much of our everyday life there are many whose everyday life make that difficult. I have loved ones who find themselves in this predicament—literally keeping the roofs over the heads of other workers and bringing food to the tables of seniors and others in care. We are tweeting, posting, and creating memes of ‘not all heroes wear capes’ messages for them. Maybe just a couple of words, on paper, written by hand.