The Written Word

The Written Word

When your children and your children’s children go through the family things some day, what will they find? Perhaps not our generation, but surely our children’s generation one thing that will not be passed down is the written word.

oldlettersOver the weekend, I hauled into the house from an old desk stored in the garage, a drawer filled with my life. Most of what was stowed away for years was from the early years in my radio career, but I also discovered high school memorabilia I thought was long gone – and frankly, I hadn’t even thought about it for decades. What I found that was most meaningful, were cards and letters from friends and family members.

There’s a letter from my ‘mom-mom’ who died in 1995. The letter is dated December 31, 1981. She tucked into the note another note that she received from a niece of my late grandfather. She listened to me on the radio back then and was so glad to have that connection. My grandmother wrote how proud she was of me.

A letter from my elementary school gym teacher dated November 10, 1981 wrote of how he and my other two favorite teachers had formed a ‘fan’ club and how they too, were listening to me on WMGK and were proud. I found letters from radio fans who talked about their lives and how connected they felt listening to me and the people I worked with. Most important were all the letters my brother wrote me when he was in the Air Force. This was in the early to mid 1980’s. These letters are particularly significant because my brother suffered a life-changing accident during his time in the Air Force and lost the use of his right arm. The letters he wrote before the accident describe his homesickness as well as the fun he was having seeing other places and meeting new people. He ultimately me his wife – and they lived happily ever after. But it was emotional for me to read the handwriting he had before the accident. He learned how to use his left hand and has done extremely well over the past 20+ years.

What will the next generation have to look through when they look at their history? Emails, documents, blog posts like this, a Google search. The written word – putting pen to paper – is often from our hearts and minds. The physical act of writing, not typing, is somehow therapeutic.  While writers today do indeed express themselves well by typing words, too often a majority of people so dislike writing that they shorten everything down. “R u going 2nite? OMG me 2. C u l8tr.”

When I work with clients and we are able to get media coverage, I always encourage them to write a ‘thank you’ to the reporter. If they want to type out an email, that’s OK, but looking at these files of handwritten cards I have – many of then ‘thank yous,’ I am so incredibly glad I’m a little bit of a pack rat. For me, there’s nothing like a personal card that someone had to choose or just find that blank sheet of paper to write a thoughtful few lines or more to offer their thanks.

The letters from my grandmother and my brother and some friends are a part of me. They describe personal history that was going on back then and how they were interwoven in my life. My grandmother has been gone for years, but to read these letters I found makes me know that she was a part of me – and I of her. I can hear her laughing right now – probably after telling a dirty joke.

Consider writing a card the next time you need to get in touch with someone. It’s worth the time and effort; and on the other end of that card, there is probably a friend, family member, colleague or someone you listen to, who will tuck that card in a file for safe keeping.

 

The Art of the Thank You

You know the saying, “Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten?” This is so true. We learn the alphabet; how to count; we learn ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Parents reinforce those lessons at home (hopefully). There is a lost art: writing ‘thank you’ notes. There is a wonderful CBS segment on writing ‘thank yous.’ Spend a few minutes and watch the segment – it will get you thinking – remembering HOW to write ‘thank yous’ and perhaps inspire you to pick up a pen (remember those) every now and then.

In the snail mail today, we received thank you notes from our nephews and niece for the holiday gifts we shared in December. Oh, the smile on my face after I read these precious words. I hope you enjoy them as well.

IMG_0801

IMG_0800IMG_0799

Letters to Camp

It would be GREAT to write about the wonderful, creative and informative letters I’ll be getting from my 16-year-old son who is safely ensconced in the fantasy world I call “summer camp.” After nine years of this summer adventure and countless reminders to him to “please write;” not to mention printing out personalized stationary, address and return labels, providing stamps and just about everything but actually writing a few words on the notecard, I am giving up.

Adam is now away until August 12 in the bucolic place called Camp Robin Hood. It is known as “The Realm” where the 325 or so boys and girls plus dozens of staff experience “the magic in the trees.” We’ve already enjoyed seeing him in several photos during the first days of camp. Adam leaves behind (most of) his electronics; there’s little, if any, texting, no regular TV or recording his “shows,” and most of all, no mom or dad to daily remind him to do things like – clean up his room, brush his teeth, set the table or take out the trash.

He’s 16 and on the brink of being responsible for not only doing his own laundry come September, but getting his driver’s license and being aware of the awesome grown-up task of driving a car and taking care of that vehicle. (Bless us all.)  For now, Adam is a CIT. Throughout his camp experience, his group of boys was almost the largest group in camp totally a little more than 25 boys at one point. Funny that now that the 16-year-olds have to partly

The inaugural splash into Broad Bay off Lake Ossipee.

“work” at camp, the numbers for his group are down to about 13. Granted, some of the boys may have found paying jobs elsewhere or other programs to enrich their lives. Adam won’t make any money this summer – he gets to go to camp for half-price in exchange for CIT work. My hope is that he’ll come back from camp more mature as he usually does and has a few “ah-ha!” moments. Those moments could be that he will or will not apply to be a full-fledged counselor next summer; found something he’s passionate about and will pursue in the coming years or that maybe mom and dad aren’t so nuts when they urge him to take care of his belongings and keep his room straight.

Back to the “letters TO camp.” I sent my first of what will be MANY letters to our son. We have just one child and despite the rough and tumble teenaged years, I realize we will only “have” him for maybe another year-and-a-half or maybe two years. He’ll be 18 soon enough and pushing the envelope of adulthood. Knowing this, I send him a page or two recapping a few days-in-the-life back on the home front. I do wonder if he reads my letters; since I send with them the Sunday comics and comic books and magazines. I even go so far as to punch holes in the letters so he can neatly place the letters in the stationary/letter writing loose-leaf he’s been taking to camp for years. Fat chance, right?

I’m glad I’m continuing to try to reinforce the old-fashioned and valuable skill of letter writing. There’s something about reading about someone’s life and understanding their thoughts that certainly a text or even a phone call can’t express. The generation we’ve seen zip by us has become one of technology verses emotions; Instant gratification versus understanding the value of waiting.

The other thought is, no matter what, I DO miss my son during these seven weeks. I’m a little jealous he gets to enjoy the “magic in the trees” while I plug away at my business as does my husband. But we look forward to hearing from Adam anyway, no matter what the form. He’ll probably write two or maybe three notes to us. The grandparents will get a note from him and he’ll probably call us once or twice.

It’s summer – he’s in a special place he loves and somehow we know he’s appreciating how hard it is to raise children – as he works with other younger boys at camp this summer. Maybe he’ll have to help the younger ones write a letter home!