I've been sorting through piles lately. Boxed up and abandoned in my father's basement for - gulp - 10+ years are stacks of old notebooks, old photos, and quite a lot of random mementos, mostly from my college days. I'm sorting a bit here and there, literally pulling a pile of envelopes and papers out of a massive box that sits in the back of my Jeep every few days, as the box was far too heavy to ever get up my three flights of stairs in its entirety.
I'm finding the sorts of things you might imagine I'd find - notes scribbled furiously during lectures, outlines of various assigned chapters and reading materials, ramblings about crushes, weekend plans, and more crushes, ticket stubs from movies galore (remember when it was $7 to get into a movie?) concert tickets turned from pristine white to an antiqued brown, class schedules and registrations, old quotes, postcards, and posters I had hung 'round my dorm room. The greatest and happily, the most abundant object I'm stumbling upon though? Letters. Lovely, sweet, glorious hand-written, paper to pen letters.
There are notes from around the globe, all over the US. There are birthday cards and silly postcards and sweet Valentine's Day messages from friends from all pockets of my life, for which I am most grateful. It makes me laugh to read some of our messages now, to see what the latest drama was, what we were all losing sleep over. What seemed important at the time. What was. What still is. What wasn't. What isn't anymore. I have letters from old high school friends, girls that are still very near and dear to my heart, and it pleases me to no end that thus far, without exception, I can say that I am still in touch with every person I've found a letter from. Of course, I have Facebook to thank for that these days, though I have to say, discovering page after page of hand-written updates, tales, and stories from my friends? It makes me think Zuckerberg isn't exactly the 'savior' he can sometimes be made out to be when it comes to reconnecting and keeping in touch. After all, he didn't invent friendship. He just put everyone in one place.
Beyond those old letters from old friends, I am finding letters from my family. All of my life, starting as an early teen, I've been teased by my family about being a pack-rat. Do you know, though, that with every letter I find from my father, recounting the latest news from New Jersey and our town or his favorite sports teams, that my heart swells a bit? And with every funny card I find from my Mom, mentioning how much she's looking forward to seeing me soon or that she's thinking of me, or about what her day has been like, I find myself transported back to those rainy afternoons in my dorm room, when getting a card from home was a highlight of my week. There are cards from my brother - who was only twelve when I left for college - that made me laugh out loud when I first got them more than ten years ago and still make me laugh out loud today. There are loving notes from my Grandmother, in her lovely penmanship, wishing me well at the start of every semester, and other notes cheering me on during mid-terms and finals.
Earlier this year, I was talking to a friend about something that had upset me. "I mean, imagine if I wrote a letter and it just got returned to sender because they were no longer at the address, and that's how I found out they'd moved!" I exclaimed. To which he replied, laughing: "First of all, Kelli. I think you are the only person to which that scenario, regarding sent mail, could actually apply..."
Tease me all you want, but I love real letters. And I send them as often as I can, still. In fact, I wish I found time to send them even more than I do. Obviously, email is quick and easy, and I know I've got a lot of great, loving emails archived away over the years as well. There is room for both types of mail in our lives, here in this technological, social media era we live in. Pack-rat or not, I can say without hesitation that I am so very grateful that I've kept each and every one of these letters, be they about mundane, every day happenings or chock full of updates. Each one is a little gem, a tangible part of my past. They are a source of pleasant nostalgia, and a gentle and kind reminder of how very loved I am. For I find, even if you know this already, it is so very nice to hold something in your hand that proves it, ink to paper. That reminds you.
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3 comments:
This makes me so happy, and illustrates exactly why I adore you. Le sigh. :)
xox
Check out yesterday's USA TODAY (Wed./ Feb. 8). Front page article is about exactly the subject you addressed. More people than you can imagine are missing letters in their mailbox. If you can't find a copy of the paper, I will mail you the article. It's right up your alley.
My Dad rarely wrote me a letter but I have the few that he wrote. And I have a couple from my grandfather in Wisconsin. My mother wrote more often; I didn't save as many of her letters because they seemed less special at the time because I received them regularly. But I do cherish the hand written recipe cards she shared. I have little notes I found where she had compiled her grocery list...every day things. I have letters I received from my brother and a bundle he wrote during his time in the Army during the Vietnam era. And I have lots of notes from you and Stephen (my most treasured keepsakes). I don't consider myself a pack rat but I do cherish my little box of special memories. Just be selective or you'll be the next one featured on The Hoarders TV show. Happy reminiscing!
my mom gave me all of the letters my granmda saved from when my grandfather was in the war. Its how they met - he had been writing my great grandmother through a pen pal program at her church and she passed him to my grandmother. There are hundreds of them. I have this idea that I will transpose them into a book someday. Nothing quite like that anymore :-)
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