The Electronic Age of Deprivation

As I am to leave later this afternoon for California I thought I’d write a blog post before my return, which will inevitably bring last-minute distractions such as homework, meetings, and preparations for school. Time is more fleeting than ever it seems, especially as the summer comes to a close. But that is another subject for another post.

The death of letter-writing as a major form of communication has been sorrowful for me ever since I began watching its decline as a little girl. My grandmother and I have been writing letters to each other for as long as I can remember. She always picked a blank card with pretty designs, or a nice piece of stationary to write upon. Her distinctly twentieth-century script was a puzzle for me, fascinating in and of itself; I put conscious effort towards focusing on the sentences, because I was unused to seeing any style except print, and they were sometimes difficult to decipher. Anything and everything could be discussed in a letter, and I spent hours deliberating over what I would say. I had to afford her as much clarity as I could, because with letters one cannot ask for explanation except in the next letter. She took to sending me newspaper clippings of stories or advertisements that she thought I might enjoy reading; perhaps this contributes to my love of newspapers/magazines, etc,. Saving her letters and reading them over again is definitely one of the largest reasons why I mourn the quick dissolution of letter-writing. Why not take these treasures out again on a rainy day, when a bright bit of sunshine is imperative to getting through the storm?

I woke up at five o’clock this morning to go out to breakfast with my mom and brother, since this is the last time I will see my mom for about a week. For whatever reason I could not go back to sleep once I returned, so I loaded in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice in the DVD player. To those of you who haven’t seen it or read the book, you should! And also, I promise I will not spoil things for you. All I mean to accomplish by this seemingly irrelevant side note is to remark that in that era, writing letters was more than a form of communication. It was our Facebook, Myspace, and Twitter. It was the only chance to record one’s feelings down on paper, on something palpable that could be passed around or announced to family and friends. Letters could convey deep sentiments to a close companion, or confuse others with vague statements and clever word choice. Of course they had their cons; information was not received immediately, which made emergencies far more anxiety-ridden. Shortages of paper, ink, or time could also pose some challenges for the writer. But in my mind, the benefits of these letters were far more important than the implications of them. As with my grandmother’s letters, they were a surprise to read. Unlike emails or texts, each one could be different and special.

It is entirely possible, given the hour of my rising this morning, that I am run away with my sentiments about letters. I’m not afraid to admit this to my readers, but I do believe that my case is valid. Call letter-writing an art form, a diverse and interesting form of communication, or a valued element of history. Whatever name it goes by, I hope this practice is at least partially revived, so my children can experience this same wonder throughout their lives.