I’ll set the scene…
Pressing against your front door, you step into the
foggy, overcast glow of a misty day. The birds are calling; the trees drip with
water. A breeze brushes against your face, sending the hair on the back of your
neck into a fervor. Minuscule droplets of rain grace the lids of your eyes.
Briskly, you dart down your porch steps and strut along your driveway. Reaching
the end, you drop the flap of your mailbox with conviction and reach inside.
The anticipation is nearly unbearable. Your fingertips can feel the rough
organic surface of a letter. Pulling it out, you close your eyes for just a moment.
Where did it come from? Who wrote it? You open your eyes…
Could you feel that? That’s what millions of people
experienced every day before the advent of mobile phones, the internet, and
social media. The ardor of receiving a letter in the mail from a friend or
loved one was the highlight of the day for many. It kept people together,
despite the countless miles that may separate them physically. Much less, a
letter represented the act of willing thoughts and feelings into existence.
What once resided solely in the mind of the writer now had life; a letter was a
tangible embodiment of sentiment.
I fear we’ve lost that crucial connection of sentiment in
the Twenty-First Century. Never have people been more connected, but also more alone.
The older I get, the more I miss getting letters, cards, and
postcards from friends, family, and pen pals. When I was a teenager, receiving mail seemed
like second nature; it was a facet of life that I took for granted. Even receiving
magazines in the post was something to get excited over.
Magazines… remember those? Nintendo Power and Wizard, I weep for both of you.
Barreling towards my forties, I miss what I once so
carelessly took for granted. When I do receive a card or letter, it genuinely
warms my heart. Thanks to the select few of you that still send me things in
the mail; you know who you are.
Letters embody the purposeful communion of love and
friendship between people. The effort to write down your ideas, address an envelope,
purchase a stamp, and place the letter in a mailbox certainly isn’t a difficult
task. And yet, that uncomplicated journey is a task with meaning. It takes
motivation. Nowadays, one person can send another person a text message while
using the bathroom, giving no further thought to the sheer magnitude of what
they just accomplished. We can wondrously tweet and instant message and snap
and kik and blow up our BFF’s Instagram simultaneously in the same time
it takes to put on our shoes.
I feel disgusting for that last sentence; please forgive
me for momentarily talking like a modern teenager.
Writing letters teaches us patience, sincerity, and
gratitude. It humbles our sense of self in an ever-expanding world of
technology. To think, words that could require months to arrive, as recently as
a mere thirty years ago, can now be shared in an instant. By increasing the quantity
of words that we share, have we not lessened their quality? A letter carries
weight by sheer necessity, projecting the most important and heartfelt
invocations of humanity itself.
Modern technology is fantastic. Without it, I wouldn’t be
able to reach you with this very article. That being said, the use of
technology also carries a measure of personal responsibility with it. As a collective
society, we’ve lost a part of our identity to technology – our ability to project
sincere feelings, to create bonds, to maintain relationships. We’ve practically
become disposable to each other, much in the same way that we disregard the
deluge of instantaneous dispatches that flood our cell phones, timelines, and
feeds. Letters circumvent this pitfall by forcing us to take each other with
earnest regard. As such, I recommend sending pieces of handwritten mail to your
friends and family whenever possible. Not only is it a delight for the receiver,
but it’s also a healthy alternative to throw-away cables sent over the
internet. Writing truly is terrific for your spirit.
I know I’m fighting a losing battle here, but that doesn’t
mean we can’t at least try to turn this ship around. When I send someone
a piece of snail mail, I’m trying to establish a connection. Sometimes it works
out, but more often than not it doesn’t. Ultimately, I’m left asking myself…
What will be left to salvage of our civilization when the
majority of our conversations carry such negligible significance?
If you would like to exchange mail with me (and I would hope
you would), then let me know in the comment section below.
No comments:
Post a Comment