One of my continuing letters to a dear friend...shouldn't be hard getting into this one.
Now is the time when I get a craving for the "good old days" in a certain form. Don't get me wrong...I love technology, especially computers, and the power they put at the tips of my fingers...manipulating gigabits of information in microseconds; rendering drawings in fine detail from pull-down menus that provide a plethora of choices that would confuse and frighten Michaelangelo...but
When contemplating writing you a letter today, I longed for the preparation of writing...throwing a dozen pillows all over the bed, cracking the window so that the breeze would riffle the sheer curtains across the pages every time I paused and daydreamed while wondering where you were sitting after it arrived in your hands. Perhaps in front of a fire, feet and butt snuggled down in the beach sand with a throw across your shoulders, maybe apple wood popping now and again, sending a small cascade of sparks to the heavens.
I missed the act of putting pen to paper, watching the ink unfurl at the end of my pen and leaving traces of me all over the paper you would be holding in your hands...paper I spent an extra five minutes selecting for your letter, with perhaps some crushed chamomile flower petals and leaves pressed into the fibers...
It really is much better; this old way of doing things. How else to experience some closeness, some Truths, even across miles after miles, and endless hours. When my children write me I can smell them in my letters...it pierces me with a keener edge than any blade, and my love for them flows out of me as my tears drop upon their words, intermingling me with them once again...across the miles...across the days.
You once made an observation that I have a bit of the romantic in me. How right you are. As I admit, even cherish, that fact, I wonder about my children, and yours, and our grandchildren; and the hundreds of very intimate things that people used to share with one another as a normal course of events, in the normal humdrum of daily living, that are being abandoned, forgotten; replaced with the sterility of electrons and LCD's..."Instant Messenger"...emoticons for God's sake! (Scrooge is alive and well and living in New England!!)
Well, me and the kids managed to carry over some of the old little personal touches to the next generation...you know; you did it too! The things that your kids think make you "cool", the things they have in their blood now that they couldn't explain now even if they tried...some of them very basic. Like...does anyone prefer to look you in the eye when they have a conversation with you rather than yelling at you over a cell phone in the midst of rush-hour traffic? How about eating at least a meal together as a family...every single day? Or sitting in the same room together watching a movie and someone's arm just wanders over the space between you and and starts running its fingers through your hair. I know you did it too, Laurene, just from hearing you describe your granddaughter the other day. The loving things, the little intimate human things that bind us to one another stronger than any cement. Well, there are a lot of others who didn't bother noticing things like that. And guess what...they never noticed it was gone, either.
I'm gonna go and write another letter to my kids, Laurene...thinking of you, too.
Jim
