Real Letters

My father liked to work in metal --he made that brass plate.

     It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime.  I still look forward to the mailman (okay, the postal carrier) every day.  Don’t know what I expect to find in the box.  Who is there to write to me?  It’s years since I’ve had a letter from any of the kids.  Mind you, that’s not a complaint – one skypes, one IMs, one emails – sometimes I’m in touch with all three in one day. 

     But I never learn – watching the clock, checking the mailbox, and then the same letdown every time, pulling out – I don’t have to tell you – nothing but catalogs, brochures, and bills.  Talk about save a tree!

     It’s somewhat better since I added back the street address to the end of my column.  Older readers  a) still read the newspaper, and  b) don’t know how to reach the web site or email address.  So now I hear from them a few times a week, and yesterday brought some excitement -- not one but two snail-mail envelopes!

     The old folks are really with it – both letters look as if they were composed on computer.  But they have everything the sixth grade teacher drilled about -- heading, date, salutation, the word 'I' still capitalized (perfect spelling and spacing if it comes to that), body of the message, complimentry close and then – it wouldn’t be right to show you -- real signatures.  In blue ink, with cursive Palmer method penmanship.

     All is not lost.  Not for a few years yet.