Every year, on the day after Christmas, I sit down and hand-write my thank-you letters. With a pen. On paper. On the 27th, I put them in the mail.
Yes. Snail Mail. With a
I have a friend on the West coast who hasn’t written a letter in five years – or so she told me in an email. “Email is so much faster,” she said (that is, she typed). Nancy is trying to talk me into tweeting, but I’ve remained a dinosaur where that is concerned.
Who says that every communication has to be instantaneous? It seems the whole world is beginning to think that way. Instant everything. Books (like Bleak House that I blogged about recently) used to be doled out in monthly installments, giving people a chance to talk about the latest chapter for four weeks before the next one came out. Letters from the Old Country used to take months to get to the colonies (if they made it at all what with the dangers of sailing across the Atlantic). Letters were written to be worth reading at the other end, because the writer knew that the reader would treasure the words, unfold and refold the paper, hold it and feel a connection, however tenuous, across the miles.
Nowadays, it’s the tweet. What, I ask you, is worth treasuring there?
Bees need instantaneous communication. When a queen dies, the entire colony must know about it within moments. They have to get busy creating a new queen. Their survival depends on it.
But whose survival, may I ask, depends on knowing what Person A ate for breakfast?
My friend (and I told her I was going to blog about this) sends Christmas cards, with a one-page (both sides) summary of everything she and her family have done all year – the kids, the grandkids, the vacations, the business trips. Each year, before I read it, I always skip to the end to see if she penned a personal note to me. (She never does, but I keep hoping.) “Dear Friends” her letter begins, and I know I’m pretty far down on the list, with a last name that starts with S.
Want to bet I get a letter from her after she reads this blog
BEEattitude for Day #441:
Blessed are those who tell what needs to be told, for they shall keep the hive healthy.
p.s. from Fran – love ya, Nancy! Write me!
The teeny details:
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