The Miracle of Mail
A Magnificent Monday celebration of letters in the box
I apologize in advance for what I am about to tell you.
You have been warned.
OK. Here goes.
While I was drawing Gregory in his delight at having received a piece of mail actually brought by a postal worker, I was struck by the sudden memory of the existence of the R. B. Greaves song “Take a Letter Maria,”* which of course became an instant earworm. I attempted to banish it by giving it to my husband, but that strategy failed, and now you have it, too. So enjoy if you can. And again — sorry.
Today’s celebration of magnificence is snail mail. Even in a time when we carry little computers capable of connecting us instantly with those near and far, nothing beats an envelope with a kind or interesting note inside. I’m lucky, in that one of my brothers has been a lifelong letter writer, and hand writes letters or taps out correspondence using a typewriter. So every now and then a letter arrives on some unpredictable substrate — a soup can label, for instance — and I learn things about his life out in Colorado. I am pretty slow at writing back, but I try.
As you know, text message and email has virtually killed letter writing, but a few people carry on. For instance, I learned about a website called Postcrossing** that facilitates the exchange of postcards between random strangers. A few people also practice mail art, exchanging weird or interesting or thoughtfully composed or beautiful expressions of creativity with others of like mind. And then of course we have the winter holidays, when lots of folks who long ago stopped corresponding by mail are still moved to send cards and catch-up letters and family photos to faraway friends and folks just down the street. Beautiful.
In 1969, when my brother went off to college and I started to exchange letters with him, a first class postage stamp cost 6 cents. SIX CENTS! Now the price of a Forever stamp in the U.S. just hit a whopping 68 cents.
Still worth it, though. Absolutely.
Before I sign off, I will mention that I just mailed a first batch of six letters to folks who volunteered to receive one. I’ll be writing them here and there as time allows, with only the goal of brightening my own day in writing them and brightening yours in the receiving.
Thanks to those of you who signed up.
A thing of beauty: a letter from my brother on eccentrically shaped paper.
A hand-painted card from an artist I briefly knew through the sketching community.
A letter from a writer I knew a bit in Florida, who composed urgent and passionately written (not to say passionate to or about me) missives that were, to letter writing, what a hot fudge sundae is to food.
Cherished object: A thank you letter from writer Tobias Wolff, to whom I had sent a fan-girl note after looking his home address up in a book in a library that contained such information.
*I know you want a link to the song, so here you go!
**Postcrossing can be found here.
As a retired postal worker, I have a special fondness for "snail mail." I still send letters occasionally and lots of cards. While I understand the USPS's importance has waned over the years--for many reasons; some good and some terrible--it still matters. Thanks for today's essay. It matters, too.
I love writing letters, too. For many year I subscribed to a little magazine calle The Letter Exchange. The magazine contained only ads from those interested in writing letters. The ads were arranged by topic and we were each assigned our very own LEX number. Those responding to the ads used the LEX number and send their responses to the magazine, which forwarded the letters on to the intende recipient. You could continue corresponding with one another via LEX number and the magazine or you could eventually reveal your real name and address. I still miss it.