I miss the twentieth century way of communicating, by letter by hand. I preferred to write with a fountain pen because I could feel the romantic draw of the ink against the paper, and so many beautiful inks were available. In the seventies I had assorted seals and sealing wax. The post office, which was a kinder, gentler institution then, delivered my wax-sealed missives intact. I kept an assortment of stationary for different purposes, for business with matching envelopes, for remembrance on the holidays, fine papers for loving words, and cute or comic cards for fun. Girlfriends wrote to me about their family activities, the new additions, their worries, hopes, and joys. They wrote it all out by hand, and I saw their personalities, their emotions in their script. I maintained hand-written correspondence with my oldest girlfriend from junior-high school for over half a century. I loved to get her tidy letters telling me how her gardens grew. I had pen pals, first in other states which was exciting, and then in other countries which was even more exciting. What a thrill it was to get a personal letter in the mailbox, on pretty paper, sometimes with a pressed leaf or flower enclosed.
Caption: From My Hand To Your Hand
scan of my letter and hand by Annmarie Throckmorton 2014.