Each Saturday here on this blog, I feature letters other bloggers and non bloggers have contributed. The variety of letters has been astounding. I have read each one and thoroughly enjoyed them.
A year ago if I received a letter which was typed I would not have considered it a real letter. I would have wondered why it was typed? And I would have lamented the death of the old fashioned pen written letter. I was so against the world of email and online personal communication.
How quickly I have moved on. Up to 12 months ago I wrote regularly, on a real page, with an actual pen. Most days I ached to find a page and write something. Now I type here on my laptop, and it has completely overtaken my need to “write” on pen and paper. In fact for a long time now I have not even thought of writing anything on paper. My journals, much loved and treasured, are gathering cobwebs. Over twenty five years of memories, ignored for months. No update written in them for almost one year.
Tomorrow I will be posting two letters which were sent to me, and both are handwritten. As I looked at them and read them, I remembered the magic of a real letter. The letters on a page, the type of pen used, the colour of the ink, and the distinct writing which is unique to the writer.
As I looked at them I remembered the magic of a “real” letter, and I greatly mourn it’s passing. I realise that I myself am contributing to it’s passing, and I have thought at length about that since I first received these letters.
What I have decided to do is but a drop in the ocean, but for a while anyway I will go back to writing “my thoughts on a page” on a real page, as well as on blog. I will make an effort to once again write in my real journal, because I think it would be a much more valuable legacy to leave my family than my blog.
I have no doubt that we are the last generation of “real” letter writers. I wonder if future generations will ever regret our passing, and realise what they have lost?