I received a letter today.

It touched my heart.

Now, I’m a “writing-word-communicating” sort of person. Daily I receive a zillion emails, business mailings, memos, text messages, phone calls and an assortment of loop mail. All are good.

But this was different. It was a real, old fashioned letter. With a stamp. It came in the mail. It was beautifully handwritten on pretty writing paper. It was written to me, just me, by a dear friend in another state, just to say hello, to share her life, and to ask about mine.

I write a lot of words in the course of a day. I write on my current book manuscript, write articles, short stories, plays, and occasional blogs. I communicate with a lot of people. But I have to admit it’s been a long time since I wrote a personal letter like that, although I did way back when, in the past. Why did I stop?

“Why spend 42 cents on a letter when email is free?”
“Email is so much faster..texting is like the speed of light.” “Hi 2 u!”
“Loop mail goes to dozens. It is much more productive.”
“I can send messages on Facebook, I can Tweet..”

I’m not exactly sure why getting this good old fashioned letter felt so nice. Was it that I was worth the extra minutes? Worth 42 cents?

All I know is, I cherish this letter! I like the feeling of pleasure it gave me, so I’m passing the thought on. I designed my own writing paper today (and printed it myself, as I’m still too cheap to buy the expensive kind, I admit).

I’m going to handwrite some notes, and let a few people know how much I care about them. In this busy, productive, high tech world, sometimes I can forget about that special, personal touch. I’ll spend the time and the 42 cents, because friendship is worth the extra effort.

Are there any thoughts on letter writing out there?

All of a sudden, I’m reminding myself of my grandmother. Uh oh.

My grandmother used to talk so much about how things were in the “good old days”, and as a kid, my eyes would roll back in my head. She talked about motorcars that had no turn signals, and the fact that only one family on the block had a phone.   An ice box was actually an ice box.  She wrote thank you notes on nice smelling pink paper, with an aged ink pen.

“These things were perfectly fine.  Why, oh why, do they have to change?”

She spent the older years of her life very baffled by television remote controls (“Where’s the wire? How does this contraption work?”), credit cards (“How does that little card know how much you have in the bank? Don’t they need to see the money?”) and froze at even the sight of a computer. ( “What WILL they think of next?”)

We smiled at her questions, and spoke (ok, sometimes condescendingly) about how old folks have so much  trouble adapting to the new.  They just can’t “keep up with the times.” Sigh

Onward, upward,we must embrace the inventions and improvements of our society.

I wrote my first three books on a turquoise blue portable manual Olivetti Underwood typewriter that had been a graduation present.  Black ribbon. No correction function. Maybe I was high on the smell of white out.  The lovely sound of each key hitting the paper (except the “e” which was a little off, but who cares), and swinging the little bar to return the carriage after each line.  Honest.  Three books. I loved that typewriter.  You had to REALLY want to write to finish a book like that.  Sigh.

When I discovered my first writing group, I thought I was in heaven.  Every month, I LONGED to go to the meeting, desperate to meet and visit with other creative minds. There was no way to communicate realistically in between. Long distance was expensive.  No such thing as email back in those early days.  We all just showed up.  In person. Sigh.

“These things were perfectly fine.  Why, oh why, do they have to change?”

Onward, upward, we must embrace the inventions and improvements of our society.

So I did. Today I love my computer, survive by email, cell phone, and plastic.  Haven’t I kept up with the times so far?  Sigh.

Now book trailers? Kindles? On line workshops? Blogging? I panic.

The knowledgeable young ones smile at my questions (ok, sometimes condescendingly) and tell me I have to adapt to the new. Technology is here to stay.  I must CONTINUE to keep up with the times.

So I will.  I will try to stop sounding like my grandmother quite yet.  But I have to admit, there is still this panicked  little voice echoing in my head.  “What WILL they think of next?”

But meanwhile, I’m blogging.  How about you?