Please, write...
- Sara Bruya
- Jun 13
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 14
I'm reflecting on Neil Postman's suggestion to consider what is lost when we adopt new forms of media and technology.
It's a different kind of writing, a different sharing, that happens by hand.
I have kept a giant file through the years of letters written to me by friends, the last ones dated in the early 2000s. That's around the time the internet was waking up, many websites still had their "under construction" apology (who remembers that?)
And it makes sense that once we discovered email, we basically eased up on handwritten notes, except maybe for birthdays and holiday cards.
But take a look at the examples below. It's a different kind of writing, a different sharing, that happens by hand. Reflection, vulnerability, enthusiasm, love, and focused attention. These people took the time to focus on their desire to connect and share something personal with me.
Now, in the late 2020s, we are pretty much over email. I'm overwhelmed by the 40+ messages that come in daily, none of them personal to the degree of these written letters. Most of them are transactional, many of them create another "to do" obligation to challenge my already strained capacity to respond.
How do we communicate now? In brief texts. With memes we didn't create. Sharing a dog-video chuckle to lighten our overburdened days. I chat with my sister when she has time, usually during the 7-minute drive between her house and the yoga studio.
To her credit, she does take time to write thoughtful texts and heartfelt birthday cards.
Over the years, I sometimes get the itch for pen pal correspondence and have initiated a "postcard project" a few times, trying to kick off some effort to communicate by U.S. Mail, like we used to do.
It's a delight to receive a hand-written, personal message among all the junk mail. Not to mention, the USPS may need saving. We could all do our part.
All this just to say, I think our drift away from letter-writing has had a profound emotional impact on us all.
We may not feel the absence of hand-written letters acutely, but just reading a letter from a departed friend will revive in your heart a taste for what is missing in our rush of digital transactions:
Time, attention, direct or implied expressions of love and regard for one-another. Tangible, enduring proof.
Just had a good cry after reading this letter from my Dad... seeing his handwriting, hearing glimpses of his daily life in the South of France with friends who had retired there. He was giving that a try to see if he wanted to join them.
The French called him "le grand silence" - he was struggling with the language, working at a nursery, planting fruit trees. No explanation of the chicken feather taped to the first page. His love and encouragement coming through... It brought up a flood of emotion.
I could feel his love in the pen and paper. He passed away in 2010, but reading this felt like a visitation. His love is still right here.
And here's a sweet letter from my 92-year old grandmother, who had left school after 3rd grade.
She talks about the "punking pie" she had for dinner and looks forward to my visit at Christmas.
She had gone by Madeline in her adult life, perhaps to seem less foreign (she was of German ancestry, born in Ukraine). But here, she signs with her birth name: Magdalene.
Check out these incredible envelopes from an old friend, Blake H.(can't seem to find him now). He was full of energy and creativity - an amazing ultimate frisbee player and artist (obvs).
So much personality in his opening page, the joy and enthusiasm for communicating with a friend. In the early '90s, Blake was on his way to CA from MA, trying to recruit friends to take a leap and move out there with him.
Seeing these brings a sharp pain in my heart over losing touch completely. How did his adventures turn out? Where is he now?
Fondly remembering him and wishing him well, wherever he ended up.
Starting to get my postcard mojo back. If you'd like to hear from me, please reach out with your address. xo Sara
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