Lately, my blogging circle has been buzzing with much talk about the demise of handwriting. First Robin Coyle asked Is Cursive Handwriting Dead? Her post was so on-point that WordPress decided to Freshly Press it, oh yes, go Robin!
Then Anne Woodman asked us to celebrate her Unofficial Handwrite-a-Letter Day
On Anne’s post, I made a comment about love letters; those treasures that used to be kept in a pretty box, tied up with a ribbon and stashed somewhere secret and safe. I never had such a box myself, but that doesn’t stop me feeling nostalgic about them; I’m sure they are a rarity now in our world of electronic communication.
All this talk reminded me of a couple of amusing love letter incidents. A friend of mine had one of those stashed boxes of love letters that I mentioned above. She dug it out one day and it was full of love letters she had been sent as a teenager. We had a very jolly afternoon laughing our way through them. I can’t remember most of them, but two particular snippets stuck in my mind –
LETTER 1 – Dear Lucy, I really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, love you. I love you so much that it hurts, and if I’ve made any spelling mistakes in this letter, please feel free to correct them.
LETTER 2 – Dear Lucy, last time I saw you, you said you were worried about me because I keep doing dangerous things. I really don’t know what you mean by that, I can only think of one occasion and that’s when I set light to my hand, which isn’t particularly dangerous.
When my daughter was 10, she came home from school on Valentine’s Day, very excited to show me a Valentine card she had been given by a boy at school. At first I was impressed, the card was handmade, and he had clearly gone to a lot of effort, with declarations of eternal love and carefully drawn hearts. Then I opened the card and was startled to see a different girl’s name inside which had been crossed out, and then my daughter’s name written next to it. I asked her about it, and she said casually, “Oh yes, well he gave the card to her first, but she didn’t want it, so he gave it to me.” She clearly considered this to be a stroke of luck for her. “Hmph, what a chancer!” I said. She looked at me slightly confused. I couldn’t work out whether it was my daughter, or the boy, who had the most to learn, but after some consideration I decided there was plenty of time for all that when she was older. So I let her enjoy the moment, and said nothing more.
Do you have any love letter stories to share? Or would you just like to tell me how much you enjoyed mine? Because that’s fine too.