Tangible Words

I spent a good part of this very wet day sorting though my "genealogy box," rich in handwritten documents, as well as those typed back in the day when carbon paper and tissue-thin copies were common. Once again, I wondered what the amateur genealogists in 2050 or so will look at -- "hard copies" of emails, with their anonymous typefaces and "emoticons"? Is it even possible to print out texts, and if so, would they be worth reading? 

Although I love the ease of emails, I also love getting a handwritten note or card, and treasure them. It must be genetic, as my grandmother and her younger sister exchanged "penny postcards" with the day's news on them for years. How I wish they'd saved those! 

But there still are some very interesting family letters that were saved -- one of them, written in 1873, will appear here at some point, as it's quite intriguing. In the meantime, today I bring you one brief note, folded for privacy, in a very fancy envelope, the reason I chose it. This is one missive from an extensive collection of notes and letters that Phil gave me or mailed when he was still working for Boeing and making five or six business trips to India and other faraway places each year.  

The written word was an absolutely essential part of our relationship. The day before Phil left for each trip, we'd both prepare a card or note for each day apart, and then exchange the packets. Opening these loving messages each day, even if we were many time zones apart, eased the pain of separation. And a "bonus" note, like this one, with an interesting stamp, really brightened my day!

After Phil retired and we moved to Bellingham, we continued the custom, as I was still working in Seattle, going down early Monday morning and coming home late Thursday night. We also exchanged emails over that span of time, many of which we printed out, but it's the handwritten notes and carefully-selected cards that meant the most to me -- and still do.

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