No Two Alike

In the past month I've been to two communications conferences where the focus has been, not surprisingly, on all things digital. So much content for us to consume--websites, wikis, blogs and social networks. A next big thing called content curation.

And so many ways to consume --smartphones, tablets, Internet TV, to say nothing of those antiques, the laptop and desktop PC.

It's all so simple. And so fast. Talking to so many people, in so little time.

It was enough to make a girl say, "Tell me again why I'm handwriting letters?"

Fair question. But here's the thing: for all the things electronic communication can do, there are some things it can't:

Create a tangible connection. When I receive a handwritten letter in the mail, I know that the sender touched that same piece of paper. No matter how many thousands of miles I erase when Facebooking with my friend in Japan, I still can't create that same intimacy.

Leave something valuable behind. Yes, emails can be printed and saved. But how many are? And when an email is printed, in that Times New Roman or Courier font, on that run-of-the-mill (literally) white printer paper, how personal does it seem? At a glance, does that letter look any different than the water bill? A stack of letters saved in a box looks like a piece of history. A stack of emails printed out looks like, well, a stack of printouts.

A handwritten letter is a representation of the sender, with all of his or her idiosyncrasies and eccentricities. The paper. The handwriting. The color of the pen. The straight, or decidedly not straight, lines. Drawings in the margin. The postscript(s).

Case in point: I recently received a letter from T, a public defender. When I was learning the ropes as a newspaper reporter he was my nemesis; when I earned his trust he was a valued source; now I'm proud to call him a friend. I wrote to thank him for all he taught me. His response noted, in part, that he'd shown my letter (which he described as "a pretty large rock thrown into the tranquil pond of my cognition") to another reporter "I done went and scared/offended/pissed off at the courthouse."


T could have typed all that in an email, and I would have still smiled at the sentiment. But somehow the words weighed more written on the nice stationery, in that same tall, skinny scrawl I remember from all those court filings. I knew T didn't start and stop and delete and spellcheck--it was one time through, no rehearsals, from the heart.

And that's the thing about handwritten letters--and the snowflakes that illustrate this post--no two are alike. Because no two of us are alike. A letter is uniquely personal, someone's blood, sweat and ink. The product of his or her hand, to be held in yours.

Write on.

HANDWRITING IS GOOD FOR YOU? Believe it. A recent Los Angeles Times article notes that "Emerging research shows that handwriting increases brain activity, hones fine motor skills, and can predict a child's academic success in ways that keyboarding can't."

Monday Letter Lore: "Unpack"

Today's letter, a reminder that not all letters need be lengthy, comes courtesy of one of my favorite new books: America 1900-1999: Letters of the Century. Hundreds of the letters by the famous, the infamous and the unknown. When a letter writer stops to read, and her mailbox is empty, this is what she picks up.

After disproving the predictions to win the White House -- and holding high the erroneous Chicago Tribune proclaiming Dewey's victory for the now iconic photo -- President Harry S. Truman received this short and sweet letter from his friend, comedian Bob Hope:

November 3, 1948

President Harry Truman
The White House
Washington, D.C.

Unpack.

Bob Hope

Some of my letters have been brief (though Mr. Hope, naturally, was far more successful at finding the wit that Shakespeare so lovingly associated with brevity) but others seemed to march toward some mysterious word limit that must be reached in order for a letter to have meaning. I can definitely think of times when I've rambled on needlessly, times when shorter indeed would have been sweeter.

So while I've certainly had opportunities to write one -- or two or three or seventy-seven -- word fewer, could I ever express myself with just one word? An interesting proposition indeed; what might it be? "Thanks"? "Sorry"? "Help"?

Write on.

ONE-WORD WISDOM: To discover what can really be done with one word, check out my friend's blog, Words.JenVisser.com. Jen has cleverly surmounted writer's block by sending cards to friends, asking them for words to use as writing prompts. Just as fun as reading what's she produced so far is perusing the "word list" and seeing what's to come!

Monday Letter Lore: "A Quarter Century's Worth of Thanks"

If The Letter Jar project has had one consistent theme, it's gratitude. At times it has seemed there are as many reasons to be grateful as there are names in the jar (a wonderful situation indeed). I've thanked:

*A former employee for his dedication and creativity

*A one-time presidential candidate for treating me with respect when I interviewed him as a cub reporter

*My son's daycare teacher for her extraordinary support and skill

*The public defender who made me a better reporter

I've thanked an airline customer service agent who made a difference for me at a crucial moment, favorite musicians for sharing their gifts. Old flames for teaching me how to have fun. My parents for raising me well.

The dozens of thank yous I've penned have humbled me -- I've wondered at times how an average gal like me gets so lucky and deserves such riches. However the letter below, discovered through the truly amazing Letters of Note website, shows that not even the most "un-average" among us are above acknowledging help. Here, on the 25th anniversary of the lunar landing, the first man on the moon thanks the makers of his "EMU," or Extravehicular Mobility Unit:

To the EMU gang:

I remember noting a quarter century or so ago that an emu was a 6 foot Australian flightless bird. I thought that got most of it right.

It turned out to be one of the most widely photographed spacecraft in history. That was no doubt due to the fact that it was so photogenic. Equally responsible for its success was its characteristic of hiding from view its ugly occupant.

Its true beauty, however, was that it worked. It was tough, reliable and almost cuddly.

To all of you who made it all that it was, I send a quarter century's worth of thanks and congratulations.

Sincerely,

Neil A. Armstrong

The perfect thank you -- humble, heartfelt and even a little humorous (the "almost cuddly" EMU?) Who doesn't have someone to thank for working for us, for giving us a lift when we needed it, for a boost in our critical hour?

Write on.

Monday Letter Lore: "In the end you are sure to succeed"

Today marks the debut Monday Letter Lore, a weekly offering of  memorable letters in history as fodder for our imaginations, grist for our mills.

At times throughout The Letter Jar I have found myself writing a letter of encouragement -- to a friend or and family member facing illness or infertility, even simple indecision. While I sometimes struggle with what to say, I always feel better stumbling over a few well-intentioned words than saying nothing at all. I know that when I am hurting, it makes a difference when someone tells me they're thinking of me. And while any comfort through any medium is welcome, there is a special feeling that comes from knowing  someone took the time to pen a note and find a stamp and a mailbox.

For George Latham, a friend of one of Abraham Lincoln's sons, that someone was the would-be president himself. While Lincoln probably didn't have to find the stamp or mailbox himself, and indeed didn't have the option of firing off a quick text instead, it is nonetheless remarkable that he, while campaigning for president in July 1860, reached out to George after learning that the young man had been unable to get into Harvard.

My dear George

I have scarcely felt greater pain in my life than on learning yesterday from Bob's letter, that you failed to enter Harvard University. And yet there is very little in it, if you will allow no feeling of discouragement to seize, and prey upon you. It is a certain truth, that you can enter, and graduate in, Harvard University; and having made the attempt, you must succeed in it. "Must" is the word.

I know not how to aid you, save in the assurance of one of mature age, and much severe experience, that you can not fail, if you resolutely determine, that you will not.

The President of the institution, can scarcely be other than a kind man; and doubtless he would grant you an interview, and point out the readiest way to remove, or overcome, the obstacles which have thwarted you.

In your temporary failure there is no evidence that you may not yet be a better scholar, and a more successful man in the great struggle of life, than many others, who have entered college more easily.

Again I say let no feeling of discouragement prey upon you, and in the end you are sure to succeed.

With more than a common interest I subscribe myself Very truly your friend,

A. Lincoln.

(Special thanks to abrahamlincolnonline.org for the text of the letter. Check it out for much more history of and wisdom from our 16th president.)


"... In the end you are sure to succeed." Words with power, whether uttered by one of our most famous American statesmen to a family friend, or just you or me to someone near to our hearts.

Write on.

STILL TIME TO ENTER LAST WEEK'S MIDWEEK MOTIVATION: I've started my letter to S, my running companion and confidante. To whom are you writing to this week, and why? Comment through tomorrow for a chance to win a set of notecards from the chewytulip etsy shop.

Winner, Week 1

Congratulations to "chewytulip," an artist and etsy shop proprietor who is the first randomly chosen winner after leaving a lovely comment in response to last week's Letter Jar Challenge:

I used to make postcards regularly and send them to my grandfather. The cards would be bright, colorful,and weird. He didn't ever say much, but he displayed them all on his coffee table. :)


What a wonderful memory! Indeed, displaying your postcards "said" more than words could convey.

Thanks also to LisavVi and Karen for your comments. I appreciate your interest in The Letter Jar project!

As for me, I've been sick enough that rest has taken priority over writing, so no letter to report this week. However, I certainly wasn't going to let Wednesday pass without picking my first winner and issuing a new Midweek Motivation (that makes two letters for me this week):

I've pulled from the The Letter Jar the name of  S, whom I met while training for a half-marathon six years ago. I'm friends with S on Facebook, but have never really expressed how much her companionship during those training runs meant to me. Of course we cheered each other on, but we also just talked (being able to keep up somewhat of a conversation, of course, being a way to keep overexertion in check). And what I ended up talking about with S was my dissolving marriage -- I wasn't ready to talk to the friends and family who had attended my wedding, but this new, neutral friend was a sounding board and confidante whom I'm never forgotten. I look forward to thanking S for all she did for me, more than I'm sure she ever knew, just by listening.

Do you know someone who seemed to appear in your life just when you needed him or her, someone you've been meaning to thank for their help, their friendship, their contribution?

THIS WEEK'S PRIZE comes courtesy of chewytulip's etsy shop full of fun, original postcards and lettersets, as well as animal magnets, paintings, scarves and a line of pickle-themed schwag. I'll be ordering a set of owl notecards for myself, and this week's winner will also be treated to a set of chewytulip notecards that strike his or her fancy.

Write on!