The Joy Of Receiving Letters, and Fuck AI
This is not an old man post…
Do you remember how you felt when the mail arrived and there was a letter there for you? Not a bill, or junk mail, but a real, hand written letter, from a friend.
Not to sound like an old codger, but getting mail used to be so important. As kids with a single phone line in the house, and long distance calling being very expensive, we wrote letters. I not only did this as a kid, but I did it all the way through college, and then some.
Places seemed farther away then. I wrote letters back and forth for years to people who lived across town. Now we jump in the car and meet for coffee. Then, I wasn’t old enough to drive and the east side of the river seemed like a different country.
I have never been one of those Christmas card people. I’ve sent a few but it’s not the same as sending a letter, or receiving one. Most Christmas cards, or cards of any sort, usually just have a signature.
In a box I still have a ton of letters and cards I’ve saved over the years. Reading them reminds me of a different time and a different part of my youth. I miss that. Not the youth part, the taking the time to sit down, write to a friend about whatever is going on, and looking forward to an answer. Reading these letters now are a wonderful window into the past.
I wonder what happened to some of the people I used to write to when I was a kid. How are they? Did they achieve the things they wanted? Are they happy? Are their lives good?
I will never know the answer to most of those questions, and ultimately it doesn’t matter. I hope they are all doing well and happy.
The first time I actually sent a postcard, I was at summer camp for a week. I think I was in the 4th grade. My parents sent a couple of letters to me. I felt obligated to write back, so at out little canteen I found the cheapest postcard they had. It was a sponsored card that had printed on it, “I’m having a great time at camp. And we are drinking lots of Mountain Dew!” Yes, Mountain Dew was the sponsor. I recall checking a box on the card for that message, and then printing my parents address. That was it. I believe the postcard was a nickel, and it already had postage on it. My parents were not impressed by my communication skills, but I was having too much fun at camp to take time to actually write something.
This was a very modest beginning to my writing career.
I remember getting addresses of a couple of the kids from camp so when I got home I wrote a few of them letters, such as they were. When they wrote back it was so cool. I was hooked.
I wrote letters for years. When I was in college, my roommates and I actually had a letter writing contest to see how could get the most letters during a term. As my roommate Rob put it, “Ya gotta send letters to get ‘em.” I don’t remember who won or how many letters we received.
A later roommate, whenever he needed money, would send his mother a card just wishing her a great day and asking how she was doing. That always lead to a phone call from his mother and she always asked if he needed anything? She always sent him a check because it was so nice to get a note from him. I’m sure she knew exactly what he was doing.
When I moved to Southern California I kept in touch with two of my roommates. Paul and I would make up all sorts of different names for the From part of the envelope. They were always bad puns, or personal jokes. Russ, who was a wonderful artist, would draw pictures on the envelopes, always incorporating the stamp into the landscape. They were hilarious. God only knows what the mail carriers thought.
One Easter, my Mother sent me a package, which was odd as she ordinarily didn’t do things like that. It had been very hot in Southern California and when I opened the package I pulled out two boxes that were for those hollow chocolate Easter Bunnies, but there were no bunnies inside, just empty boxes. I thought what a weird cruel joke my Mother was playing on me.
Then I noticed that the boxes were kind of heavy at the bottom. I opened them and found a lump of chocolate. The bunnies had melted and merged with the cardboard underneath. The other candy contained in the package had also melted and was stuck together. All of it totally inedible. But hey, she tried.
I have seen my six year old granddaughter light up whenever a letter or package comes in the mail for her. She gets so excited. I remember that feeling.
I was going through some boxes of my fathers things and found letters he had received from his mother during the war, and a few from his brother when his brother was in the Army. These are very cool to read.
I’ve kept a lot of cards and letters I’ve received over the years. I enjoy rereading them and remembering good times and places. They are like photos from another time, with words.
My friend Kim writes letters to her grandkids every year on their birthdays, letting them know what was going on in the world over the last year and memories she has with her grandkids as they are growing up. The kids love these letters and even though they are in high school and college, she still writes them and they still get excited about receiving them. What a wonderful gift.
Obviously most kids don’t write letters. Everything is through their phone. I wonder if they’re missing out on an experience so many of us have had, and fondly remember. Mostly. Some personal letters are not that great to receive, but overall most of them are. I’m not complaining about “kids now-a-days” or technology. Although I am a bit sad that this great part of growing up no longer exists.
I still send emails to friends about what’s going on, and when they reply it’s great. But it doesn’t feel the same. Something is missing.
I read an article a while back on how writing by hand uses different parts of your brain than typing does. I don’t know if it makes your brain work harder, I just remember that it makes it work differently, which makes absolute sense. Although I spend hours at the computer, I still write out a lot of things by hand. Outlines of my stories, notes on different drafts, and even my dailyto do list is done by hand, on scratch paper.
I’ve decided that I’m going to start corresponding with friends by hand. I bought a roll of forever stamps and I have a ton of envelopes and paper. So why not? I like the idea of sitting down and actually composing letters by hand again. I still have an address book, although I’m going to have to update it.
If you would like to start corresponding with me, by hand, please send your address (or a PO box, I don’t care) to my email, kbaker@angryfilmmaker.com and let’s see what happens.
This could be terrific, or way too much work, but I’m going to give it a try. Maybe one day someone will publish, What The Hell? The Collected Letters Of Kelley Baker. But probably not.
The Angry Filmmaker Rants
I just learned a new thing. I do a lot of research on the internet and what I hate is wading through all of the AI garbage that always pops up first. I don’t trust AI and have seen many instances where it’s actually wrong! I read somewhere if you put -ai at the end of your search, it doesn’t show you any AI findings. Now I always type in -ai whenever I’m looking something up.
Now if I could figure out how to turn off more AI crap, I’d be much happier.
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Here is a link to to me reading an excerpt from my story, Incident At Arrah Wanna. About the time I got busted at church camp for smoking pot. I was fourteen and not much of a role model, even back then. It’s only 3 minutes. Please check it out.
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