Over the years I have been drawn to stationery, postcards and note cards. There was a time when I wrote many letters and I waited in anticipation for return mail. I must have started writing letters at a young age as I recently came across a note written to me from my Aunt Marie.
Wednesday
Dear Joan,
I hope you are over the mumps. I guess I never had them. Uncle Mack and I will be home the first week of April. You write a nice letter. We enjoy them very much.
Love,
Aunt Marie
The marvelous thing about words on paper sent over the miles was that the letters could be read and reread and then saved in a box. In my attic I have such a box of letters saved by my father from my mother. They are a glimpse back to the late 30's and early 40's when my mother was teaching in a one room school house and their young love was starting to blossom.
Saving letters must run in the family. I received a special letter from a former teacher when I was a senior in high school. During my junior year I had worked with other students on the 1963 Tigerite, our high school yearbook. We had a young teacher, Pat Austin, who for the first time decided the yearbook needed to be jazzed up and we added many new style elements.
She and her husband Alan, who was our band director, decided to move to Ann Arbor after my junior year so my senior year we were left to fend for ourselves with a new advisor who knew little about how to put a yearbook together. Mrs. Austin had named me the editor for the 1964 Tigerite, but I couldn't have managed it all without my good friend Judi Campagna who was a go getter.
When the year was over we sent a copy of the book to Mrs. Austin and her letter to me was one I treasured and kept.
May 12, 1964
Dear Joanie -
You have now something in common with Hercules! Triumph over overwhelming odds! Your Tigerite is superb - and I could do cartwheels. (If I could.) It has grace and balance - and so many "sharp" features I just don't know where to begin telling you of my reactions.
Mrs. Austin's letter was six pages long and at the end of it she wrote that she and her husband were headed to Anchorage, Alaska where Mr. Austin had gotten a job. I never heard from her again nor knew what happened to them in Alaska. But I kept her letter in a scrapbook and it is a reminder of my high school years.
In college there were letters home to my parents. My mailbox in the dorm often had a return letter from my mom or from high school friends. It was always a good day when there was a special message from someone.
Letters like my parents wrote to each other were exchanged between my husband and me before we were married. When he traveled to Europe for a few months or when we were separated by summer jobs, we each wrote at least once a week.
When we married, my husband's mother and father lived several hours away. I got in the habit of writing a weekly letter, usually on Sunday to recap what we had been doing during the week and later to share the activities of our two children. My mother-in-law also sent a weekly letter. When my father-in-law retired, he joined into the letter writing business and his were always humorous, often at my mother-in-law's expense.
Tues. 3-10-81
"Hi" you all! This is Grandpa starting to run off at the mouth. I have been lazy for a week now. I did write a letter to Dootz yesterday. When I wrote the date on this letter it remind me of Lil Kemp's birthday her birthday was on the 10th I wonder how old she would be, my Dad would have been 102 yrs old yesterday the 9th.
So many nosy people wonder what I am doing. I think that is my business if I want to chase mother around the house, we hit it off real good. Mom is a pretty nice girl even if she is going to be seventy her next birthday. I am bugging her eating so much........
.......Sometimes I wonder how my foreman is making out with tungsten grinders, he talked to me a couple months ago he dread the thought of me retiring the last day I was there he tried three men on it and nobody liked it. Yesterday he was going to try a 18 yr old with a broken leg. You got to be a little polish to like it, that is where I fit in O.K. but eyes let me down. So will close with lots of love.
Mom & Dad
In one letter my father-in-law referred to hearing that our son, who was in kindergarten at the time, was being picked on by another little boy. Grandpa told our son not to start anything, but if he got hit he should "hit the boy in the snot locker."
After my mother-in-law died I was told that she had kept all my letters over the years, but in some one's zeal to clean out the house, they had been thrown out. I thought it was endearing that Mom Ramseyer had kept them all those years, but I was a bit heartsick that the history of our little family was gone in the blink of an eye.
Letters did not always bring joy Some have been hurtful and others expressed the pain in one's life. Recently a friend gave me a letter she found that was written by my mother to her mother Myrtle during a particularly painful time for my mom. In the late 60's my mother became depressed. She was admitted to a psychiatric hospital in Plainwell where she tried to get well. Despite where mom was, her letter sounded hopeful.
Thursday 7:30 a.m.
Dear Myrtle,
We have to get up at six o'clock in the morning and have breakfast at seven.
When I think about what put me here I think God meant me to quit that job and it helps a lot. I must continue thinking the same thing.
I worry about Jerry and how he is getting along. I think he's coming to see me today.
There are so many people here that it is overcrowded. Some of them go home today so it will help a little.
It was cold yesterday and is cold again today.
There are so many people with such terrible problems that I'm lucky compared to them. I've met some wonderful people too. The nurses are all wonderful.
Thanks for all the help you gave me while I was at home. I hope to be back soon for good! How's everything in Shelby?
Love,
Ellen
The letter my mother wrote to Myrtle was written in October of 1967. In March of 1970 my mother's dear friend Myrtle found my mother after mom had decided she could not live anymore the way she felt. I was glad to read this letter after so many years have passed because it shows that my mother wanted to get well. However the hope did not last for her or our family.
Despite the content of a letter, there is something about the feel of the paper, the texture, and the written word. Those who treasure letters are those who treasure the human spirit and the ability to communicate feelings.
Instant messaging has taken away the special feeling of going to the mailbox and finding a letter. In desk drawers and wooden boxes I have more stationery than I can ever use, but when I travel I still look for unique writing paper to add to my collection.
I write notes and letters to my two granddaughters, Adrianna and Bella, who do not live near and sometimes to my three grandchildren, Jay, Avery and Carter who live just down the road. My granddaughter Adrianna has a pretty box where she keeps special things including the postcards and letters I have sent her over her eleven years. It touches my heart to see her colorful box. However I feel that less and less personal writing will be done by hand and those special boxes filled with human emotion will be lost to future generations. But meanwhile, sweet Adrianna is saving my words to her and that brings me great joy.
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