Please Write Soon A handwritten letter may be a vanishing act, but a sure way to touch someone’s heart
By Stephen E. Smith
Photograph By Hannah Sharpe.
F
lip on that snazzy new iPhone 4s and there’s the twitter you’ve been waiting for: “Fyi itz kewtweed twike ur geotwitter pfn bff” — shelf life: three seconds. Compare the above gibberish with this excerpt from a beautifully handwritten letter by James Boyd to his editor Maxwell Perkins dated Jan. 21, 1937: “Tom Wolfe just left last night after a three-day visit. He arrived Monday (at 4:47 a.m.) totally whipped down by New Orleans and Atlanta cheer and in his state was disposed to take on the roles of Prometheus Bound and having refreshed himself, Ajax defying the literary agents. But after two long sleeps the Great Bear emerged ruddy and benign and altogether in the best form I’ve ever seen him in… .” — shelf life: 74 years and counting. I’m not anti-twitter, but I am pro art, and that’s what a handwritten letter is — a pleasurable aesthetic creation of more than ordinary significance. And what’s heartening about such a piece of art is that any of us who has the patience and skill and courage to put pen to paper can create a minor masterpiece that might live on until the planet is transformed into a cosmic snowball — or cinder. OK, snail-mail isn’t green. You have to use paper and ink and slap a stamp on the envelope. Then a vehicle that burns fossil fuel has to deliver the letter to your doorstep. But your iPhone has a nasty battery that has to be recharged by atomic or fossil fuel, and the thing is made of plastic and a tiny circuit board and it’s almost indestructible. It will live on long after its usefulness — which is about 365 days — is over. Then what? So here’s my suggestion: Write an occasional letter to the people you love. Let them know you’re well — or ill, as the case may be — and that you’re thinking of them and have taken the time to acknowledge that they occupy a special place in your heart. Make them smile. Make them feel the warmth of your affection. I know, letter writing is a lost art, but it’s not impossible to recapture the old magic. Here’s what you do. First, get a decent fountain pen. That’s right, one that uses liquid ink, preferably black indelible ink. You can purchase a fountain pen with an ink cartridge, but one with a bladder (I know it sounds icky) is better. Such pens hold more ink than a cartridge, and they’re easy and fun to refill. Make sure your new fountain pen has an appropriate nib. They come in fine, medium and broad, and every possible configuration in between. Using the right nib will improve your handwriting, if that’s what you’re worried about. Practice with the new pen until you find a satisfying style that enhances your scribble. Don’t be overly critical of your penmanship. You’re writing to someone who already loves you. Next, purchase some quality stationery online or at an office supply store. Use paper that works well with your fountain pen, soft and gently absorbent. Forget about copy paper. It doesn’t receive the ink in a graceful fashion. Make sure your envelopes match your stationery. Third — and this is very important — purchase some uncanceled vintage stamps on eBay. Type in “sheets of US stamps” and you’ll find they’re available for a song. What could be cooler than a sheet of 50 mint condition “Oregon Territory” stamps issued in 1948? They’re beautiful works of art unto themselves — and they’re perfectly usable, and a full sheet is available for just a few dollars. Add one of the Oregon stamps to a current postage stamp to dress up your envelope. Ah, me, such a thoughtful touch. As for the writing part, it’s easy. Start with where you are at the moment: Dear Janice, I’m sitting in the den on this rainy day and remembering the wonderful time we shared when we were in San Francisco. What a beautiful moment that was — the clear blue sky and the fog rolling over the Golden Gate Bridge, the sea air fresh and cool… .” Plunge onward. Reveal your true feelings. Unburden your heart. Be a true friend. And here’s a little something extra I do. I buy unused vintage postcards on eBay that feature a place that reminds me of the person I’m writing to. Recently, I sent a postcard of Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, that captured hundreds of colorful umbrellas on the beach. I remembered an essay an old friend read me in college about his summer renting umbrellas at Rehoboth. I said that the postcard reminded me of him. He wrote back a three-page thank you, identifying the street where the umbrella stand was located and what year the photo was taken (he recognized the canvas material from which the umbrellas were made). And he reminisced at length about the good times he experienced during that long-ago summer. He ended his letter with: “You are a true friend.” PS PineStraw : The Art & Soul of the Sandhills . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . December 2011
69