No One Writes Letters Anymore.


It’s a shame, really. The only thing that fills my mailbox these days is useless fliers, redundant catalogs and relentless direct mail. In fact, we don’t even think about mailboxes anymore, unless of course we’re referring to our inboxes. Correspondence has become an impersonal flow of computer-generated sentences. I yearn for the lost art of a sincerely hand-written note.

On seldom occasions I find a hand-addressed envelope in that lonely metal box on the curb. It’s my grandmother, wishing happy birthday or anniversary or another special event. Gracing a pre-printed card with her unique handwriting and personable (though slightly illegible) message. These are the letters which sit displayed on our kitchen counter to be enjoyed and adored for weeks. Wish the world did more of that – pick up a pen and note paper to send a moment of meaning by mail truck. You?