Letters

~ This article first appeared in The Leader-Vindicator newspaper. ~

I’ve started handwriting letters.

A great deal of the value associated with a relationship is mined from regular interactions among the parties involved.  This transfer of information is how people get to know each other.  There are some people to whom I want to be well understood; when they see what I’m working on, I want them to know what it is I’m doing without the aid of speculation or others’ gossip.

We all have those things in life that we’re avoiding, although they never go away.  Those areas of avoidance are where our attention should be directed because a small amount of work will yield disproportionately large returns.  In my case, I avoid small talk.

Certainly I know I should stop and say hello, bring the news, and explain myself.  Yet to lose momentum in the middle of a day for the reason of chatting makes me shudder.  Therefore I always put off the visit until the next day, and the next, and it’s not long before a whole season is gone and I haven’t set foot across the threshold of their house. 

To some people this is not a big deal, for their personality type favors watching from a distance.  To others absence is a maddening blow indicating a lack of respect.  Although my introverted self has survived a good many years simply doing what I’ve always done in the relationship department, which is little, I’ve been experiencing increasing personal tension to step up and address this issue of absence.  I want to flourish, not survive.  There must be a bridge to cross somewhere.

I got the idea to utilize the postal service because of a document that needed delivered to my aunt and uncle.  Instead of sealing the thing alone in its envelope I scribbled a couple simple farm updates on a piece of notebook paper and stuffed that in for wadding.  Wow, did I feel good when I put the letter in our mailbox!  It wasn’t fancy and it didn’t exactly flow, but the scribbling highlighted a few little details I’m working on that have me excited.  I felt joy imagining that a chuck of my mind was riding a truck to North Carolina. 

Here, I thought, is my bridge.  I can send these to the people I care about to fill in the gaps between my infrequent visits.  In a letter I can be personal, informative, enthusiastic, and speculative.  Furthermore, handwriting communicates a level of commitment to the individual receiving the letter: I didn’t type and print – this was written specifically for you.  In other words, I can create a close relationship without intruding too much on my fellow introverts and without being trapped by unending conversation from the social butterflies.

Or so went the theory.  I needed to put it to the test, so I scribbled down a few highlights of the month and sent a new letter to a different person to see what happened.  It’s a reflection of my generation that I was truly stunned to realize, days later, that I might never know the impact of my note.  I can’t check its performance on the internet.  I can’t see that it was opened.  I can’t even know for certain that the dang thing was delivered.  Ha!  Snail mail.  Send it and forget the whole thing.  What freedom.

I wrote three letters in December, so it’s not like I’ll be balancing USPS’s budget with the volume of work coming out of our mailbox.  But those three letters provided such relief to my mind that I anticipate adding a fourth person to my mailing list by February.  Four will probably be enough, as time spent writing will begin to play a significant factor in the successful continuation of my experiment.  Just this small volume of communication has taught me significantly more than I expected, and I suppose the lessons will benefit me in one way or another for years to come.

My spelling is terrible.  When I’m typing I’m unaware of how frequently the computer checks my errors.  My pen is far less forgiving than the word processor.

On the computer I’ll type 100 words and erase 80 of them.  When I’m writing I need to choose the proper 20 words the first time, save the verbosity.

I cannot right-click a piece of paper to find synonyms.

It does not take too much time to hand write something.  I find it easier to pick up a pen and jot a few thoughts in a moment of tranquility than it is to fire up the computer and open the document to do the same.

There is pure joy in not knowing how many people ‘liked’ your ideas.

I’m not exactly changing the world, here, but I am changing the way I communicate with people around me and that has a better impact than the former scheme does anyway.  I can slow down and provide a note without any real benefit to myself other than a feeling of accomplishment, and I can know that my lifestyle provides me the luxury of having something to say and the time to say it.  Maybe that’s what everyone is seeking; we just need to realize that the reward doesn’t come from targeting the masses, but the individuals we know quite well.