I am in Georgia visiting family. I am in the room of my childhood. I am cleaning out my closet because I don't think we will have a need for my 10th grade Biology book or the remnants of my college wardrobe ever again. Goodby Mia sandals and Girbaud jeans. Sad but true.
I did, however, find a treasure among the 80's memorabilia.
A bag of letters.
It was not so long ago that we invested ourselves in the letter writing process. We had a conscience about the length of a long distance phone call because long distance was expensive. We couldn't read the paper online or know what the weather was elsewhere with exact accuracy. We did not have cell phones wired to our person and the need for immediate gratification. Instead we wrote letters. Long letters.
I read all the letters that I received while at college. From my mom, my dad, my grandmother, my younger sister and brother, my friends at other schools. They are filled with news of home or where ever, mundane and witty at the same time. They are pages long and express feelings and thoughts that we no longer express so eloquently because we talk constantly.
The writing is delightful. My sister would illustrate hers. My sweet little brother was so grammatically polite...still is. My mom would write of her very full schedule and who she had entertained. My dad wrote of business ('your car insurance has gone up') and the cats. And my friends were sarcastic and hilarious in their descriptions of their new room mates or fraternities.
And then there are the love letters. More than a few. And it is painfully clear why I chose the one I did. Eee Gad, he could write a letter.
I am sad for this endearing and enduring lost art. I want my boys to be able to write a letter that will SLAY!
Bah humbug to email and texting and such. (for fair measure blogging should be thrown into that group, but....)
Today I begin my letter writing campaign with a plea.
Give me your mailing address, please.
And go here and order some monogrammed stationary that will make you feel official from my fabulous sister in law, Haile.
And read this fabulous book of letters....The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Yes, I realize that I am behind the curve on this one. (Thank you, Brian! I didn't forget and there was a letter from you in that stack of treasures!)
Soooo, if you read this and you live afar and you would like for us to put you or your children on our correspondence list then leave your particulars in the responses.
Or feel free to write to us!
The Patton House
P.O. Box 3313
Durango, Co 81302