May 2004 | Features

   
    
 
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
     
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

Reviving a Lost Art

Tessa MacKinnon
OP Contributor

    

I have always written and received a lot of letters. However, in my third year of uni-
versity in the mid-90s, I began to notice the flow of letters to my mailbox was thin-
ning considerably. I was spending less time writing letters and more time on my
computer. The Internet was still a vague and mysterious concept to me, but this new
thing called email was quickly sweeping the university. | became an email junkie in
no time—addicted to the thrill of seeing those four magic words: You Have New
Mail.

And anyway, who has time to write a letter in this ridiculously hectic world? When
I contemplate writing a letter, I automatically factor in the time and effort it will
take, because a letter needs to be crafted. First, | need to get a piece of paper and a
pen. It has to be an appropriate piece of paper, and a cool pen that’s fun to write
with. Then I have to write. The form and style of letter writing has been impressed
upon me so powerfully that I cannot flout its conventions. There must be a proper
salutation, a body, and an appropriate closing. I pay attention to spelling and gram-
mar, topic sentences, and transitions between paragraphs. I feel obligated to ask
quéstions about the weather, my friend’s health, children, pets, etc. Then I have to
find an envelope, the address, and a stamp. If I can’t find a stamp, I have to go to the
post office and everybody knows the post office has limited hours and lines that last
forever. Then I have to wait. It takes days for the letter to travel to my friend. Then
she sits down, reads it, and the process starts all over again. No wonder I stopped
writing letters.

Email has forever changed the way the western world communicates. All we need
is a computer. Forget about the hassle of envelopes, postal codes, stamps, and post
office lineups. Forget about waiting. A reply may arrive within minutes of hitting
that Send button. Email is the poster child for our culture of instant gratification.
Compared to “snail mail,” email is incredibly fast, efficient, and effortless. However,
in the medium of email, letter-writing conventions are often dropped. Forget about
receiving consistently well-crafted, thoughtful, coherent pieces of writing. I have
received emails with atrocious typos, no punctuation or capital letters, and littered
with strange acronyms that are part of the new language of e-speak. I have received
emails as short as one line, or occasionally, a couple of words. No more salutations
and closings. No more questions asking how I’m doing.

In the spring, I spent several mornings going through a box containing every letter
I have ever received. It was an unexpectedly powerful experience. Every letter was a
memory—a tangible piece of evidence of a relationship in my life. The letters trans-
ported me back in time, and I felt as if I were reliving my past. I read letters from
people I had forgotten about or no longer knew, and from people who had since
passed away. I laughed and cried and felt overwhelmed with nostalgia. I realized how
much I missed writing letters, and how special they are.

I realize my addiction to email has contributed to the demise of the letter.
However, since re-reading that box of letters, I have re-opened letter writing lines
with three of my friends. I have started my own grassroots movement of a letter
writing revival.

 

 

 

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