call me crazy

Here is just part of my collection of letters I've saved through the years.
We'll just label this as more proof of my memory-collecting neurosis.

I do miss real mail, actually. I really do. I listened to a radio show (on NPR) talking about letter-writing not long ago and the guest was talking about how with letters, our DNA is actually all over the place in hand-written letters, not to mention the personality and moods that come out in handwriting. But the thought of touching the object that the other person was touching, the paper they folded, the stamp they licked; there is a measure of intimacy that is missing in electronic communication. It really is too bad.

Anyway - I can mourn the loss of the past as much as I wish and it doesn't change a thing. I am overly dependent on email and the internet just like the rest of you. But I'll hang onto every shred of my paper past for as long as I can, thank you.
And you can call me whatever you wish.

(and can you tell I am still a little lost in la-la land? yes, well. I guess I'm catching up on the many years that I kept all this boxed up and out of sight. It's a time for digging and delving for me. And I'm ok with that. You just get to join me for the fun! You lucky ducks, you.) :)

(PS the book that was discussed on NPR was Yours Ever: People and their letters by Thomas Mallon - for those interested. I have it on hold at the library, of course.)