It's About Time

My 7-month-old son, T, pulled the name of my dad--also T, my son's namesake--out of THE LETTER JAR last Saturday.

Same son kept me too busy on Saturday to write. So I started the letter on Sunday.

And worked on it a little on Monday.

And finished it today.

It made for a somewhat disjointed experience, stopping and starting like that, even if I did have in mind from the beginning an idea of what I was going to say. And as I sat there this morning in my recliner, wrapping up the letter, I did have an appreciation for e-mail's allure. Let's face it: I probably could have written my father--and mother and brother and mother-in-law and several best friends and my hairdresser--any number of e-mails in that same time frame. My words-per-minute score isn't that great, but I'm sure I can type faster than I can write.

But.

Therein lies the rub. I type faster than I write from a purely mechanical standpoint, yes, but a mental perspective too. When I'm typing an e-mail, I'm fairly aware I'm simply skimming the surface of my mind, offering a quick update about the kids, a little tidbit about work, some pleasant inquiries as to what's been happening on the other person's end.

But to put pen to paper and write ... it feels important and I happily, easily even, put forth the kind of thought I feel the process deserves. Themes emerge and my vocabulary expands as I take what feels like a cherished opportunity to tell my letter recipient how I feel about him or her.

I heard an NPR interview the other day with Nicholas Carr, author of The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains. Carr maintains, based on his own experience and the hours of research he has done, that all our time online--quickly moving from skimming a story on a news site to browsing the RSS feed of our favorite blog to checking our e-mail and rinsing and repeating over and over--is cutting into our attention span and making it difficult for us to concentrate on kind of things we used to spend our free time doing. Things like reading books.

And writing.

Carr says we can stem the effects of Internet overuse by devoting equal time to activities of deeper concentration, which gives me reason again to believe I'm on the right track with this letterwriting journey. (I will admit to some doubt as my recent letter turned into a multi-day project.) This blog is evidence enough that I'm not about to abandon my Web-surfing ways, but to have another reason to spend some hours unplugged, with just my pen and paper, is fine by me.

Sharpened Focus

This morning I wrote a letter to J, whom I met in college through our campus ministry. In the first part of the letter I thanked her for her friendship: She is someone, I told her, on whom I could always rely to tell me the truth, have my best interests at heart and generally see things in the most positive light--characteristics valuable in any relationship but particularly apropos a couple years ago as I sought her firsthand advice and support as I struggled with issues of infertility. I also remarked that she is such a good role model for her daughter, something I know because she has also served as a good role model for me and others:

You are one of the first people I ever met who so fully embodied the idea of public service and brotherhood ... I have met few people who have your level of commitment to their fellow men and women and to the Earth. Even though it's been years since we've seen each other face to face, let alone day to day, I am still inspired by you to make wiser decisions about my use of resources and my impact on fellow humans. Thank you for serving that role in my life, as an example of less consuming and more giving.

At that point in the letter I then found myself giving my friend what turned out to be the most articulate assessment I've expressed so far of what this project has meant to me. First I told her, as I have others, that writing these letters has underscored the importance of recognizing the people in your life at any given moment and how they're shaping you as they share part of your life journey. But the words that rolled off my pen next persuade me that I have reached a new level of understanding of what that "recognizing people" really means:

It has been so interesting and enlightening to write to friends and family--people I've known practically since birth (I guess that would be my mom!) and those I've known a much shorter period of time, but who still have had an impact--and realize through reflection and exposition the lessons those relationships have taught me. I'm realizing how many people I have to thank for what I know and believe about hard work, fairness, appreciation and gratitude, expectations and, yes, love of fellow man, altruism and social and environmental responsibility.

Sitting there in my recliner this morning, writing the letter to J with my son sleeping in my arms, those words unexpectedly brought the significance of this project into sharp, clear focus--interestingly, at a time when my energy had started to flag somewhat. (Fulfilling a commitment to handwrite 365 letters in 365 days while working full time and raising an infant can be a little much, I've found, and being plagued with a nasty cold--as I was the last couple weeks--can make you question that promise, along with your sanity.)

Suddenly I am infused again with the same excitement I felt as I drew that very first name from THE LETTER JAR--I look forward to the realizations, recollections and recognitions that lie within my next 288 letters. And just as I know my drive will wane again, I am confident it will resurge too--and I look forward to experiencing how that happens.

UNEXPECTED BENEFIT: This project, perhaps not surprisingly, is improving my handwriting! Not that I've ever had what I (or the most likely critics, my teachers and employers) would consider terrible penmanship, but I've noticed that even the non-letterwriting activity for which I typically give little care to my script--meeting notes at work, grocery lists, forms completed for the DMV--is starting to take on a more legible, pleasing look. Only 253 days until next National Handwriting Day on Jan. 23--I've got a head start!