The Case of the Missing Letter

People get late mail all the time.  A World War II era letter just found its destination thanks to the postal wanderings of the Royal Mail, and a letter of condolence written to a UK family by Prime Minister Gordon Brown finally was delivered – four years late.  My own college acceptance letter was lost in the mail in 1996, so I received my acceptance via telephone when the Macalester admissions counselor wondered why I hadn’t responded to the good news.  Well, I was home nervously pacing and wondering why everyone else knew where they were headed for college, but not me!  Flukes?  Maybe.  But after what happened this weekend, my empathy level has increased even more for people who get their correspondence years later than the senders intend.  That’s because I just received a handwritten letter, dated December 2007, postmarked the same, and addressed to me without a street address, but in c/o Ashland, Wisconsin.  The sender apparently did not know where I lived at the time.

Sat.
Dec. 1, 2007

Dear Claudia,

I hope this note gets to you.  I had no idea of how to find you, and asked at the paper, and left a note there for you to contact me….

I’m sorry about your mother [Joyce] dying.  I stopped a few times without finding her, and finally heard the sad news.

I don’t know what I was in her life, but to me she was a Joy, was a guide, was an inspiration, and a good nudge to do things.  I’m glad to have walked a path with her, albeit short.  If you should find the time, and find it in your heart, I’d sure like to hear how things were when she died.  A telling of how the events were.

Thanks a bunch,

NAME/ADDRESS

P.S.  Claudia, Joy thought the world of you.  Was very proud to know you, and more proud to be your mother, and loved you dearly.

The funny thing about the missing letter showing up at this particular time is that last week I told Andrew, my husband, that I’d like to have a chat with my mother about all the things that have happened in our lives since she passed away in June 2006.  My mother and I would sit and talk it up for hours at a time about whatever topics floated through our minds.  Fortunately we had one of these chats just a few days before she died, the memory of which I cherish.

Then the letter shows up yesterday evening via a hand-off from my brother-in-law who found the letter – unopened – somewhere, and who knows how it got where it was, and who knows how it showed up 20 miles away in Bayfield, which is where he and my sister live.  Though my mother didn’t write the letter, for all it contains it could very well have been a dictation.  Incidentally, it also turns out that shortly after the above letter writer sent the missing letter in 2007, I found my mother’s address book and wrote to him.  Thankfully we are still in touch.

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The Authentic Life

Terry Gross: And do you care what people think of your personal life? Or is that just irrelevant to you?

Woody Allen: Well, you know, if I say I don’t care, it sounds so cold and callous. But let me put it this way. How could you go through life, you know, taking direction from the outside world? I mean, what kind of life would you have, you know, if you were – if you made your decisions based on, you know, the outside world and not what your inner dictates told you? You would have a very inauthentic life.

-NPR, Fresh Air, June 15, 2009

As in life, writing is best when it’s authentic: genuine, consistent, and true to the heart.  Writing that’s written in an authentic way stands out, whether  an essay for a high school junior English class, a term paper for a college seminar, or even a corporate press release.

Authentic writing comes from a place of focus, where nothing else but the topic at hand is considered, where emotion remains rich and unfiltered, and where the prose or poetry flows out unfettered by the thought of, “but what would people think?”  Similarly, to live an authentic life is to “just be yourself.”  Perhaps Shakespeare wrote it best when Polonius says in Hamlet, “To thine own self be true.”

A recent guest blog post on The Velveteen Mind is a wonderful reminder of how rare it can be as a writer, and in real life, to freely trust and be authentic throughout the creative process.  Guarded lives are unfortunately the norm, rather than the exception, as it is easier to live in a hidden way than to be open and face whatever consequences might otherwise arise.  Same in writing.  So often a writer can find oneself churning out mindless content, rather than writing one’s own truth.

The development of a guarded writing style seems to begin early on.  I say that after having noticed young elementary children censor themselves during creative writing workshops I’ve facilitated.  For instance, in an icebreaker poetry exercise the students at first were afraid to write down what they imagined things to be or look like.  Before they even picked up pencil and paper the students were comparing their writing with one another and becoming fearful that their own personal ideas were “silly” or “stupid.”  Upon realizing what was happening, and instead of following the original curriculum, we focused on being open and non-judgmental with our writing.  Anxieties lifted, the students became less self-conscious, and their writing became more real – more authentic.

Writers young and old, and especially those who struggle with finding authentic voice, would gain much in considering Parker Palmer’s observations of authenticity.  Palmer discussed the nuances of living a “whole life” a few years back in Yes Magazine, when he wrote that “The divided life may be endemic, but wholeness is always a choice.”  Comparisons, fear, judgment, and self-consciousness hold people back from living their best lives and hold writers back from creating their best work.  As Joseph Campbell once said, “When we quit thinking primarily about ourselves and our own self-preservation, we undergo a truly heroic transformation of consciousness.”  Experiencing that transformation is when one gets in touch with the authentic self, the most important resource a person has.  Once a writer taps into authenticity and turns away from insecure comparisons, nothing can hold a writer back.

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Ode to the Handwritten Letter

Anne Trubek once argued that handwriting should no longer be taught to children.  Her initial colon-speckled article appeared on Good.is, in which she described her son’s struggles with forming letters and taking educational performance tests.  Not surprisingly, her son subsequently developed a dislike of penmanship and writing.  Based on these experiences Trubek says that communicators should wave their good-byes to penmanship class and get over any “romantic” attraction to the handwritten word being a demonstration of anything “pure and authentic.”  She suggests that handwriting is an “arcane” communication technology, and one that humanity soon will dedicate fully “to the trash heap.”

Handwriting: Gone for Good?

Trubek followed up her 2008 piece with another, just last month, in Miller-McCune, which was unfortunately hailed by the Utne Reader blog.  In one of the most compelling sections of her writing Trubek says that, “typing in school has a democratizing effect, as did the typewriter.  It levels the look of prose to allow expression of ideas, not the rendering of letters, to take center stage.”  Along with putting ideas at the forefront of the educational experience, rather than the creation of curves and straight lines, Trubek makes handwriting an issue of social justice.  What Trubek also does is discuss how hand writers (or slow typers) cannot keep up with the speed of thought, and so less time is available for the writer to think.

It is notable that editors have remarked on a slow-down in recent years of receiving handwritten material.  For one, electronic reponses to mainstream magazine articles far outweigh the letters sent to editors via “snail mail.”  Stephanie Smith reported as much in an end-of-year story for WWDMedia.  Handwritten letters are “mourned” by one editor, while another says that such penned letters are from “an older audience.”  From the interviews Smith had with her sources she determined that the main difference between the electronic letters and the handwritten ones was one of engagement and personality.  “The difference, said most editors, is that letters are more thoughtful and personal than comments or tweets,” Smith wrote.

Handwritten or hand-mailed letters being more thoughtful than typed?  How could that be, if what Trubek says about writers having more time to think is true?  It is quite possible that writers who use new technology are writing more quickly and transposing a great quantity of thought, but in the process these same writers are losing depth and quality of thought.

Take for instance a letter written to Washington Post columnist Gene Weingarten.  Politics of the initial column and e-mailed response aside, consider the letter itself, which only includes capitalization, partnered with 89 typed exclamation points.  Such typed responses don’t seem all that thoughtful, and so the editors Smith interviewed may certainly be on the mark in their observations of reader commentary.

December’s online issue of Forbes magazine included a column by Trevor Butterworth that speaks to this point of quality over quantity.  Butterworth calls the popular fast-paced nature of Facebooking and Tweeting “a crisis that is located, primarily, in the cognitive effects of acceleration and its cultural backwash.”  Of particular interest to Trubek might be Butterworth’s suggestion that playing video games and thumb-tapping tweets need “to be balanced out by reading novels, handwriting (for old-fashioned digital dexterity) and playing with other live people if you want your child to develop to be an effective, skill-acquiring, empathetic adult.”

Yes, the speed of modern communication is faster than ever, but the thoughts people use to communicate with one another are infinitely more important than the speed at which the communication is accomplished.  The democracy of technology would be much better served with solid thinking than fast talking, just as a letter in my mailbox will always be more appreciated than a note in my inbox.  Call me old-fashioned, but it’s the thought that counts.

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Happy New Year and Thank You Readers!

It’s that time when many of us develop the resolutions we’ll take to heart in the coming year.  As I look back on the resolutions I made in the past, some actually worked and others utterly and miserably failed.  This year I hope to set the bar somewhat low and, to quote one of my Facebook friends, “instead of making resolutions, I’m going to make goals.”

Goal #1: Finish my master’s degree in communications from the University of Wisconsin – Superior.

Goal #2: Be more thankful.

My first step in being more thankful is to thank all of the near 700 readers that have read this blog/website either sporadically or on a regular basis, just since its launch in September 2009.   Some of you are purely readers, while others are regional freelance writers looking to my blog as a model for setting up your own.  However readers have journeyed here, thanks to the wonders of the Internet I am able to list the cities and states of my most recent 500 site visitors.  So please take your city listing as a personal thank you for reading, for sharing, and for supporting me this year as I took the plunge from full-time employment into the rewarding and soul-fulfilling life of a freelance writer.  Without your help and your interest, this dream would not have been reached.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  I am in your debt.  Here’s to a wonderful 2010!

  • Tucson, AZ
  • Beverly Hills, CA
  • San Diego, CA
  • San Francisco, CA
  • Santa Monica, CA
  • Sunnyvale, CA
  • Denver, CO
  • Longmont, CO
  • Washington, DC
  • Des Moines, IA
  • Chicago, IL
  • Leawood, KS
  • Laconia, NH
  • Newton Center, MA
  • Silver Spring, MD
  • Duluth, MN – many visitors, but one in particular is in the process of setting up her own freelance writing site – good luck!
  • Minneapolis, MN
  • St. Paul, MN
  • Goshen, NY
  • Plano, TX
  • San Antonio, TX
  • Ashland, WI
  • Cashton, WI
  • Eagle, WI
  • Eau Claire, WI
  • Hayward, WI
  • Iron River, WI
  • Milwaukee, WI
  • Racine, WI
  • Sheldon, WI
  • Sparta, WI
  • Tomah, WI
  • Kirkland, Quebec, Canada
  • Madras, Tamil Nadu, India
  • Moscow, Moscow City, Russian Federation
  • Peterborough, United Kingdom
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A Simple Life

Today I had a nice chat with our phone company’s billing department about some questions that I had about our last monthly statement. It all turned out fine, as the issue ended up being a confusing label for a new service we’ve acquired.

At the end of the conversation the billing representative asked me about my television. “What television service provider do you have?” she asked. “We have a number of options that you might be interested in.”

“I don’t have a television,” I replied. “And I haven’t had one for more than a decade.”

The representative gasped.

This is a common response whenever my husband or I tell anyone that we don’t have a television. It is a conscious decision on our part, and as foreign as it might sound, we can easily quench our thirst for information via the radio, the internet, or the library.

Our life together is simple and we like it that way. We have time for people we care about, we have time for our hobbies and for reading, and we have time for each other.

Not having a television means that we often make our own entertainment. We garden, write, ski, hike, fish, bike, run, and play weekly games of Ultimate Frisbee. Our lives are active. Instead of setting aside afternoon time to exercise so that our evenings are free to watch our favorite sitcoms, my husband and I cook slow meals and set aside time for romantic sunset walks along the lake. We spend less and enjoy more, and I can honestly say that I feel better when I am not around a television set.

We sure do appreciate avoiding the blare of commercial breaks every four to five minutes, though in the interest of consumerism we still contribute what we can to U.S. capitalism. Even so, my husband and I frugally value the utility of things more so than their trendiness. I don’t feel pressure to conform to a set style or standard of living, and I appreciate what I have much more than I would if I were constantly being bombarded with messages trying to convince me otherwise.

For what I have I am grateful, and that feeling of contentment is worth more than an infinite number of flat screen tvs.

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The Writing Life

Lots of writing going on in the past few weeks: a potential personality profile piece for a national magazine, two articles with photos for two local publications about an area farm, at least three book reviews lined up, some web content development for an area business, not to mention all of the cranking I’ve been doing on the thesis. When some of this stuff is actually published I’ll post some links.

I just keep reminding myself that all the hard work pays off in the end.

The other night I took time off from writing and went and played the pipe organ at our Catholic Church in town. It is so rewarding to play such an enormous instrument. I was so inspired that I requested a book about pipe organs from the library. One of these days I’ll know the technical ins and outs, but for now I do as best I can. Those pedals! Whew!

In the meantime, I’ll keep sipping the hot cocoa, pondering the meaning of gardens, and dreaming about lots and lots of cross-country skiing.

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Advent

'Tis the Season

The Friday after Thanksgiving it starts.  Turn on the radio, and you’ll hear Christmas carols and holiday songs, all served up with plenty of cheer.  My favorite songs are the ones that have a hint of melancholy.  “O Come O Come Emmanuel,” “Lo How A Rose ‘Ere Blooming,” “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and “What Child is This.”  At the beginning of our season of glee and commerce, I find more pleasure in the songs of longing than I do in the songs of bliss.  So that makes me wonder: Why?

For me, Christmas is about waiting. The Advent Season begins four weeks before the actual Christmas holiday, and during those four weeks there’s an anticipatory air – people chat about their plans for Christmas, families arrange dinners, parties are held – and it seems like there’s always something to look forward to.

Fast forward to Christmas Day, and after the grand affair there’s another anticipation for the 12 days after Christmas that lead to Epiphany. As the story goes, Epiphany is when the three wise men finally finished their trek across deserts to visit the Holy Family.

And then it’s over, the musical season of waiting is done, and it’s on to the February season of love – Valentine’s Day.

 

 

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