I have mentioned previously that my Great-Grandfather served in World War One. At one time, young Ted Roosevelt, the former President’s eldest son, served under his command. My ancestor thought highly of him, and wrote to the former President telling him so. Teddy Roosevelt showed his appreciation for this scarce and personal wartime news by writing back a two-page letter in his own hand.
I am so glad that you think well of my son Ted, the Major. I shall keep your letter as a precious heritage to hand to his children…
…Well, my dear General, I am very grateful to you. If ever I can be of service to you, I shall eagerly hail the chance.
Faithfully yours
Theodore Roosevelt
Not only did my Great-Grandfather’s letter become – perhaps – part of young Ted Roosevelt’s family history, but it was quite something to have a two-page, personal letter in return from the former President!
Awww. This will be handed down for generations!
What if it had been an email? Would it be as exciting, as special, as treasured? I don’t think so. Just as we complain that immersing ourselves into a behind-the-screens existence has muted our friendships, so it is that dashing off a few electrons which arrive filtered through microprocessors and servers seems… diluted. Disconnected. Impersonal. All emails look alike, essentially; a personal wish from your dearest friend is displayed just like a random spam message, or that annoying note from your boss.
This is not just the older generation griping about new technology; it’s the loss of that personal touch. We have a few telegrams that we have preserved in our family, because the news they contain is important to us; but the telegram just does not carry the same weight of sentiment that our hand-written letters do.
My Grandfather’s hand.
Handwriting is special. The sender actually held the paper, put pen to it, marked it with his own unique style. Our loved ones’ handwriting is instantly recognizable to us; receiving an envelope embellished in a familiar hand brings a smile, excitement and anticipation of the contents. And going through old letters handed down in a trunk brings back powerful memories, or provides a tangible connection to the ancestor you never met. Will email ever do that? No.
My Great-Grandfather’s hand.
What a pity that cursive handwriting – indeed, even just neat handwriting – is dying out. Schools barely teach it anymore, as Claire Suddath reports in Time magazine. This is a bigger problem than just having sloppy, childish print-handwriting as adults; neuroscientists point out that children learn to read more effectively when they also practice forming letters by hand, as opposed to just using a keyboard.
Then there is this: Ms. Suddath notes, “The Declaration of Independence is already hard to read.” Personally, I think the Declaration is one of the easiest historical documents to read. Ms. Suddath is not some snot-nosed teen. She says she was in third grade in 1990; this means she is well into her adult career now. Our country is in the hands of her generation, and they cannot decipher hand-written historical documents, or their own trunks of family letters in the attic. We have passed into a dreary phase in which this will soon be a “specialty,” if it isn’t already.
The Declaration of Independence. Is this hard to read?
Indeed, for those who dream of sending their loved one a handwritten missive, it seems to have become easier to pay dearly to have someone else provide it as a service. For a mere $200, Paperfinger will transcribe your words into a beautiful one-page, handwritten letter on fine stationery. It has occurred to Lila that she has calligraphy pens and India ink, and knows how to use them. Hmmm. But you know, hiring someone to write your beautiful letter for you is barely one step up from the telegram. It’s prettier and more expensive, but it’s not your hand. It’s just not the same.
My Aunt’s hand.
I love the Internet. I really think it is perhaps the best and greatest technological development in my lifetime (well – so far). But I am so glad to have known the world before the Internet, before personal computers, before smartphones. All of that stuff was actually pretty easy to learn how to use. The hard part was learning cursive, memorizing multiplication tables, using a slide rule, navigating with just a compass and contour map – or the stars. All the tech is convenient, but it’s a good feeling not being dependent on it. And it’s a great thing to be able to read my own family’s history in their own words.
mary burdt
February 11, 2013
The joy at receiving a handwritten note or letter from a friend or loved one brings with it such feelings of being important enough to this person that they took the time to sit down and put their thoughts into written words. Like you, Lila, I love my computer, but also I am happy I lived in the time when they were but a dream. The written word can be read over and over and then placed away to read again, perhaps on a rainy afternoon when I need to feel important once again. I have letters from my dad that date back some thirty years. Just reading them brings back the knowledge that he loved me unconditionally. How sweet is that?
mimi
February 11, 2013
And the joy even now of finding scraps of notes from grandparents – just a few words that were theirs. That love was mutual. I’m afraid that i’m one who relies on electronics for almost everything except the signature on a credit card receipt. I have a series of letters that were typed by my grandfather’s secretary and sent to a mailing list – but I can read his descriptions and feel close.
cyclingrandma
February 11, 2013
I have a few letters from my grandparents that I’m saving. Yes, truly a lost art.
Lauriate Roly.
February 11, 2013
Lila, I can tell you that I do so support the idea of writing a letter in your own hand. Whenever possible, I try to do it, especially when I want my message to convince the recipient to understand they are receiving my most sincere and thoughtful comments.
Granted, the current condition of my shaky hands does not lend to enviable penmanship; however, that disadvantage notwithstanding, I have found that most times I have composed and sent a handwritten note, I have enjoyed a thankful and appreciative acknowledgement by return.
The Color of Lila
February 11, 2013
Lauriate, as much as I value my Dad’s letters, notice that I did not include his handwriting sample here… but I treasure his letters most of all.
And… T.Roosevelt wasn’t winning any penmanship awards, was he??
Robert
February 12, 2013
Weeks before dying from a terminal illness, my mother handed me a shoe-box filled with the cherished letters of her life. She directed me to wait a year – until, she hoped, the pain of her passing would have subsided a bit – and then to read her letters with a good bottle of scotch and box of Kleenex within reach. As I expected, there were some wonderful lessons for me in the shoe-box – my family Rosetta Stone – as well as letters I had written as a child to my mother with her thoughts and wishes for me etched in the margins. I have since warned my daughter that a body of email correspondence, filled with banal OMG’s and LOL’s, will not make it into anyone’s Gallery of Memories. My message was apparently lost in translation. She now emails less and texts more. Hers will be the Lost Generation.
The Color of Lila
February 13, 2013
Robert – it is really something to think about. My Great-Grandfather wrote an autobiography of sorts, filled with anecdotes of his experiences, containing photographs of interesting keepsakes like the Roosevelt letter, and even including a couple of the public speeches he made (in retirement he was a much-sought-after lecturer).
How would I see, know, or enjoy any of this without that biography? He died more than a decade before I was born, yet I feel that I “know” him better than a lot of the relatives that I knew in person. To write is to communicate one’s mind, and that survives even when we do not.
His book inspired two other family members to write down their own experiences. I have those books too. On the other side of the family, the idea was born to create a family cookbook, and interspersed with the recipes are short stories and recollections from various family members. So you have their growing-up stories along with the favorite foods and meals that they grew up on. It really makes our ancestors real, human, three-dimensional.
I fear that you are right. Today’s generation, generations from now, will be a blank, silent name just like any other in the cemetery.
Rose
February 20, 2013
I’m actually a fourteen -year-old, so I’ve always had the computer around, even if I only started using the internet propely around twelve/thirteen. I love receiving letters. I had a best friend who moved to Germany (from here, Ireland) and we would send letters to each other to keep in touch. I’ve also sent a love letter. Much as I adore the internet, letters are lovely.<3