The pen remembers what the brain forgets

I am the youngest of three boys.  When I was 8, my oldest brother went to college.  I really looked up to him and probably still do.  I was missing him, so, one day I sat down and wrote him a letter.  It was just about the mundane stuff that he was missing because he wasn’t there.  Dropped it in the mail and that was that!  I don’t recall if he wrote back.  However, MANY years later, I was at his house, and he said, “Hey! I want to show you something.”  Out of a small box came a few pieces of paper, and I could see it was in the unsteady cursive of a young person.  He handed it to me and as I unfolded it I realized it was the letter I had written to him so many years ago.  It was like unfolding a time capsule and all those years later, it still had impact.

Another time, a 19-year-old version of me had spent some of the spring and all summer working on a classic fashion statement of the era.  By the end of the summer, I had managed to grow an epic mullet.  My hair is straight but it had grown long enough to have a little curl.  I was SO very proud.  When my Pop came home that evening, he offered his opinion on my well-earned fashion statement, and the review wasn’t positive.  I respected my father a great deal and the next morning, before I headed back to college, I asked my mother to cut the back of my hair to be more aligned with a traditional haircut.  It wasn’t a big deal, and my feelings weren't hurt—it just was.  But a week or so later, I found a letter in my mailbox.  I immediately recognized my father’s handwriting (especially given all the years of practice I put in to mimic his signature).  The essence of the letter was an apology.  It spoke of how he hadn’t intended for his words to have the impact it had and that he was proud of me and loved me without condition.  I still have that letter.

A couple of weeks ago, I received a card in the mail from a friend.  It was a ‘thank you’ note for being a good listener and for encouraging her.  That letter is still sitting on my desk and not because I'm not good at managing paper.  Eventually, it will get filed away, and someday, either my kids or I will come across it again.  It will be a reminder that gestures don’t have to be big or grand to have impact.  We all just need someone to listen and to offer encouragement.  It will also show the power of something written by hand because it meant enough to save it.

Each of these instances will be my reminder of the power of a handwritten note.  I recognize that in this world of text messages and emails, taking the time to handwrite something is trite.  But I believe those electronic communications could get lost in data storage clean ups.  I think, something written by hand carries a different expression and sentiment.  Sure, it takes a little more time and takes a little more time to locate a stamp and address, but the impact is greater and lasts longer. 

My challenge to you is that the next time someone does something for you that impacts you write them a note.  I assure you: the impact it makes will last much longer than the time it took you to write it.