Mailing Memories

What’s the most memorable thing you ever got in the mail?

            

My parents always said that snail mail was underrated. They didn’t use those exact words but as a child they tried to convince me to write letters to my friends and grandparents because they would “appreciate” them. I never understood. It takes the letter at least a week to get to them and another week for you to get a response. By that time the sentiment has probably changed and you might not even want to talk to them anymore. What’s the point? I see my friends every day at school. If I have something I want to say to them I’m not going to send a letter. By the time it gets to them I’ll have six other things I want to say. My grandparents can be reached by a phone call. Letters are useless. This is the twenty-first century.

            

The only things they ever got in the mail were boring adult things that had to do with money. They got Macy’s and Pottery Barn catalogs. I suppose for adults it’s exciting to look for bargains on blenders.  Sometimes they got checks and pages and pages of coupons that we never used. But mostly, it was bills. There’s a saying on bills but I can’t remember it. Nothing is certain but death and bills. Maybe that was taxes.

            

Only during Christmastime would my parents look forward to getting things in the mail. All of our friends and family would send in their Christmas cards. As they arrived my mother would open them and read them aloud to us, showing off the creative and decorative front of the card. She would then tape them up one by one on the wall so that by December 24, the wall was covered in nativity scenes, sparkling snowflakes, awkward family photos, but mostly warm wishes from our loved ones. That was the part we all looked forward to.

One summer my best friend decided to go to camp. He told me would have no cell phone connection and no internet for two weeks. I asked him if he expected me to stay at home cleaning the house while he was off having the time of his life. He told me I could write him letters. So off he went and within three days I decided to send him a letter. I realized I didn’t know what I was doing. How do you write a letter? How do you send a letter? Is it supposed to be a formal affair? How many stamps do you use? After long deliberation I told him about how I was doing nothing and asked about his adventures. I liked the way my handwriting looked on the page.

            

I mailed the letter and all I had left to do was wait. And wait and wait. My god, why do letters take so long to get to the other person? Is this what life was like before the telegraph? Did people just spend their time waiting for their friends to reply? There is really something to be said about the impatience of our generation. After about a week I got an answer. He told me about the great time he was having. His messy handwriting switched from black ink to blue as he wrote on different days. It had the distinctive smear of a lefty.

           

It wasn’t so much what he wrote but I loved that letter. I still have it. I guess it must have been the combination of having to wait and that it was so distinctly my friend that made the letter so special. I suppose it’s the same sort of deal with handwritten birthday notes and Christmas cards. People like knowing that they’re worth the time and effort. It turns out my parents were right. There is something about getting something in the mail that makes it more effective than just a simple text or phone call.