UP:
"The email of the species is deadlier than the mail."--Steven Fry
My brother Bob always preferred what he called "Dmail": handwritten communiques that circulate via the USPS. The "D" is for his last name. He refused to own a computer or participate in email, which often irked the rest of us. His longtime friends used to thank him for never moving house--same address, same phone number since the early 1950s. Every year on Valentine's day, he'd send out those little grade school valentines, signed "love, Bob." Now he's gone, and those little cards with him. For my birthday, I'd get a long letter telling all his news--of his children, grandchildren, and so far, one glorious great-grandchild, the neighbors, his old friends whom I knew, and the Minneapolis weather, which involved, usually by my birthday, lots of snow shoveling (which he did himself with a shovel, not a blower). Even in his 80s, he loved to ride his bike over to St. Paul to visit his daughters there.
Dmail, indeed! He lived a Dlife!!--his own and under his own power until the very end.
My mother and my grandmother's 93 year old cousin still carry on handwritten correspondence. Some of my family treasures are letters from my grandparents and my great grandmother. Just last year my aunt gave me a packet of letters that my father wrote to his mother when he was stationed on Iwo Jima during WWII. I learned things about him that I didn't know before.
ReplyDeletenothing like old relatives to inspire, non/?
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