Amy Lu's View

I’m amazed by how many letters my friends and I used to write each other in the eighties/early nineties.

Yes, forget emails and don’t even think about texts–these were actual letters handwritten (okay a few were typed) on paper. Not quite papyrus scrolls or stone tablets but almost.

I don’t want to turn this into a rant about the demise of letter writing. I DO think something has been lost as we’ve collectively turned away from letter writing, but I’m not sure what it is. Certainly there is a physicality to handwriting that captures a unique aspect of a person. Seeing the handwriting of someone, especially someone deceased, powerfully and viscerally evokes their presence.

There must also be something special about the timing of the letter writing process: I throw this monologue out into the world with hope that you’ll respond with your own. I just have to wait–days, weeks, months? 

Maybe you’ll answer questions I’ve posed or just write about whatever you feel like. Maybe you’ll take time and write a flowery and eloquent missive worthy of a Ken Burns documentary or just scribble down a few thoughts or an update.

I’m sure letter writing is unique–not necessarily better than all our other current communication methods but definitely different.

I do think letters are surprisingly intimate, even when they’re not necessarily intended to be. I can’t imagine emails or phone calls or face-to-face conversations being as routinely revealing of people’s inner lives. Or maybe the thoughts expressed just seem more weighty because they are more permanent–not just “on the record” (as my friend Mark once advised don’t ever put anything in writing because it can be used against you) but rooted in the physical world. 

Maybe people feel safer or bolder when expressing themselves in a letter, as it is a solitary experience–you can’t see the other person’s reactions and they can’t interrupt you.

So I’m a little thrown by all the letters I uncovered in the midst of another personal possession purge. Even the mundane letters feel a little too intimate. I couldn’t read them all in one sitting due to time and emotional limits.

I also completely forgot how many letters I received (and presumably sent). Not just from close friends or friends who were traveling, but more casual college friends living at home again during the summer.

And maybe I was a little stalky? I definitely got some “okay I’m responding to your letter so relax” vibes.

I even had some pen pals–people I never actually met in person.

I also found a few angsty unsent letters that I wrote that were cringe inducing. Thank heavens I didn’t send them, but it makes me a little nervous about the ones I did send. 

I guess the big takeaways are that I’m amazed by how deep some of my friendships were when I was young. I don’t know if this is attributed to youth or a pre-social media world, but it’s lovely and makes me a little uncomfortable and wistful. I’m also surprised and humbled by the scope of my social connections. People who I haven’t thought about in years– decades really–came back to life in my mind as I held and read their letters.

It almost feels like magic–you unwrap a piece of paper and a person appears. All without a selfie.