A foggy & frigid Friday. I met my wife for a mid-afternoon start on our Christmas shopping. After our purchases we walked a few blocks to to get some grub at the pub; a bowl of stew, some fish & chips. I washed it all down with a Monty Python Holy Ale brew. We vacated our table as the early crowd was filling up the place; I, back to the office to put a wrap on the week, while she drove directly home.
Some time later I walked in from the garage and found her sitting at the word processor in the breakfast nook with a Mona Lisa smile. After a moment of studying her quizzical expression on her face, she asked, "Did you see what was on the table?"
I answered, after a brief pause, with a very cautious, "ah, no."
"You need to go take a look".
There at her place on dining room table was a piece of stationery with words written in my own hand, and lying atop the hand written letter was an envelope address to Mrs. Susan Suneson, also recognizable as written in my hand. The envelope had a foreign postage stamp affixed in the upper right corner.
"Do you recognize that? Do remember that letter?" came a mirthful voice from the kitchen. I looked a bit closer and saw it was dated Feb. 1st, 2007. The letterhead on the stationery was from the Westin Hotel, Warsaw, Poland. Yes, I do remember sitting in my hotel room on a Winter's night in Warsaw, where I was to make a presentation on some of the Romanian geology and oil exploration prospects I had developed as a consultant for an international exploration company. There, overlooking a drab, angular gray block, Soviet inspired skyline that evoked well the eve of a Polish Ground Hog's Day; I decide to write a few lines of poetry to my love and send it off in an old-fashioned envelope. After all, one can only surf just so much Polish hotel TV before craving a few poetic vowels to go with all of the WC, CZ, SK combinations. The next morning the staff at the front desk pleasantly assured me that they would post my letter to the USA.
Humor me here:
Warsaw, Poland to Dallas, Texas USA = 5,743 miles
Love Letter Dated 2/1/2007 - Received 12/9/2011 = 1,773 Days
Rate of Travel: 3 Miles 458 Feet and 7.4 Inches per Day; or 679.1 Feet per Hour
Now what happened between the front desk and our mail box over these 4-plus years I can not say, nor I can I hardly speculate. I must have wonder in the few weeks after my return in early 2007 what ever became of my letter; has the world so quickly moved to email, internet and social media that in most places on this planet, a hand written letter is no longer sacred or even much less accounted for?
Never-the-less, I confess, it seems much more fun and mysterious and full-brimming with fancy to get a letter, once thought lost, delivered nearly 5 years later. I dare say better than a text message: "How r u?"
Between the extra couple of hugs I received this evening, I have come to lament what must now be the nearly extinct sweet art of protracted composition and words lovingly sculpted to frame sentiment, hopes and fears and then sealed with a kiss. Indeed, I do lament a generation that never feels a heart leap upon shuffling through the mail to find a letter addressed to them in a cherished script identifiable as unique to the composer. All the more, how much is now lost among this generation to not grow old with a bundle of old love letters that easily kindle sparks, joys and tears from good times that should not be forgotten. Progress is good, and as I blog here tonight, I have more praise than scorn for the internet and all - but a hand written letter has always been a treasure and I am reminded tonight of how sorry I am to feel that this intimate form of communication is all but passed.
In fact, I may now write out some Christmas Letters to long lost friends. Something I have not done in 11 years. Watch your mailbox as well as your in-box.
Some time later I walked in from the garage and found her sitting at the word processor in the breakfast nook with a Mona Lisa smile. After a moment of studying her quizzical expression on her face, she asked, "Did you see what was on the table?"
I answered, after a brief pause, with a very cautious, "ah, no."
"You need to go take a look".
There at her place on dining room table was a piece of stationery with words written in my own hand, and lying atop the hand written letter was an envelope address to Mrs. Susan Suneson, also recognizable as written in my hand. The envelope had a foreign postage stamp affixed in the upper right corner.
"Do you recognize that? Do remember that letter?" came a mirthful voice from the kitchen. I looked a bit closer and saw it was dated Feb. 1st, 2007. The letterhead on the stationery was from the Westin Hotel, Warsaw, Poland. Yes, I do remember sitting in my hotel room on a Winter's night in Warsaw, where I was to make a presentation on some of the Romanian geology and oil exploration prospects I had developed as a consultant for an international exploration company. There, overlooking a drab, angular gray block, Soviet inspired skyline that evoked well the eve of a Polish Ground Hog's Day; I decide to write a few lines of poetry to my love and send it off in an old-fashioned envelope. After all, one can only surf just so much Polish hotel TV before craving a few poetic vowels to go with all of the WC, CZ, SK combinations. The next morning the staff at the front desk pleasantly assured me that they would post my letter to the USA.
Humor me here:
Warsaw, Poland to Dallas, Texas USA = 5,743 miles
Love Letter Dated 2/1/2007 - Received 12/9/2011 = 1,773 Days
Rate of Travel: 3 Miles 458 Feet and 7.4 Inches per Day; or 679.1 Feet per Hour
Now what happened between the front desk and our mail box over these 4-plus years I can not say, nor I can I hardly speculate. I must have wonder in the few weeks after my return in early 2007 what ever became of my letter; has the world so quickly moved to email, internet and social media that in most places on this planet, a hand written letter is no longer sacred or even much less accounted for?
Never-the-less, I confess, it seems much more fun and mysterious and full-brimming with fancy to get a letter, once thought lost, delivered nearly 5 years later. I dare say better than a text message: "How r u?"
Between the extra couple of hugs I received this evening, I have come to lament what must now be the nearly extinct sweet art of protracted composition and words lovingly sculpted to frame sentiment, hopes and fears and then sealed with a kiss. Indeed, I do lament a generation that never feels a heart leap upon shuffling through the mail to find a letter addressed to them in a cherished script identifiable as unique to the composer. All the more, how much is now lost among this generation to not grow old with a bundle of old love letters that easily kindle sparks, joys and tears from good times that should not be forgotten. Progress is good, and as I blog here tonight, I have more praise than scorn for the internet and all - but a hand written letter has always been a treasure and I am reminded tonight of how sorry I am to feel that this intimate form of communication is all but passed.
In fact, I may now write out some Christmas Letters to long lost friends. Something I have not done in 11 years. Watch your mailbox as well as your in-box.
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