The lost art of handwriting

We’re getting ready to participate in a neighborhood garage sale in a few weeks. We’ve not had a sale in years, so plenty of “treasures” have accumulated in our attic and garage. As I was going through boxes and bins, I came across a trunk where I had stashed stacks of cards and notes dating all the way back to middle school. One was a note from my pastor when I made a profession of faith in sixth grade, another was a letter from a Japanese exchange student we hosted one summer in the ’80’s. There were postcards from friends’ beach trips, birthday and graduation cards, Valentines cards from my grandparents, and notes from friends and family when I lived in Birmingham. Even now, I read the faded words and can’t bring myself to part with these tangible reminders of different seasons of life and friendship.

I found this recipe my grandmother had written out for my mom years ago. She was a farmer’s wife and a great cook, and I love how seeing her writing brings back memories of her and her cooking. When the 4th Grader saw this she said, “Whoa. Her handwriting was cool. It looks like George Washington’s.” I’m not sure that’s the case, but I suppose our writing can date us.

Over the past decade I think it’s safe to say the amount of handwritten mail {or handwritten anything} we send or receive has dwindled in favor of email, social media messages, or texts. Technology has simplified and sped up communication in amazing ways. It’s become rare to send a real birthday or anniversary card in an age where we can type a “Happy birthday!!” or “Congratulations!” message on Facebook or shoot a text in a fraction of the time it takes to purchase, write out, and mail a real paper card. And, remember getting postcards with cheesy pictures from your family or friends at the beach or at the Alamo or wherever else their summer travels took them? How many people still send those? I wonder if we aren’t losing something significant by letting technology take over as our primary means of communication. I have saved way too many old emails and text threads, but I can’t imagine sitting down and sifting through those in years to come with the same enjoyment and nostalgia I experienced this week over a stack of cards and papers.

There is something special about handwriting. It’s intensely personal and completely unique. It takes more time and thought to form letters, words, and sentences on paper than it does to peck at keys on a keyboard or a phone screen. The 4th Grader is fascinated by mine and the Spouse’s signatures right now. She’s at an age where she’s still mastering cursive letters, and painstakingly forms each connecting letter in her name to practice signing a check or a form at school. So, it intrigues her that we are so familiar and practiced with our own names that we can whip out a {somewhat} legible signature in a matter of seconds. We sign our names on dozens of keypads and items each week without giving any thought to it. But, signatures can be revealing, and she’s interested in why we form certain letters in certain ways and what our style says about our personalities.

When we were in Boston last week I was overwhelmed by how much American history exists in that one city. As we looked through the glass at various pieces of written history in the museums there, the time and energy people took to craft beautiful, meaningful letters is mind-blowing in an age where we routinely peck out messages that look like this:

K. Thx!
LOL! :-))
OMG
Luv u 2!

We may be more efficient these days, but I’m not convinced we’re getting smarter. Imagine if Samuel Adams and the colonists had texted King George back in 1773:

I’ve been taking a free online course to work on my writing skills. It may sound silly since I’m not presently being paid to write. But in the same way golfers want to improve their swing or home cooks want to learn how to make a better pastry, I want to get better at this craft. Something I keep hearing stressed over and over is “words are powerful.” I read books and online articles and wholeheartedly believe in the power of the typed or printed word. But, I think there’s something even more powerful about handwritten words.

We all know a picture is worth a thousand words. And, in a sense, handwritten words are a picture all their own. Like powerful images, cards or notes of comforting or encouraging words or inspiring or empowering words can affect us for months or years to come. My father-in-law wrote the Spouse a letter just before our wedding. That’s an act of love one never forgets. Of course words matter, but I would even argue that the form of those words matters, too.

I think it’s interesting how much handwritten notes or snail mail means to my girls who have only known the digital age. They certainly appreciate technology, but they instinctively know to treasure handwritten cards. I’ve not been very good about writing many these past several years. I’ve still not even written the first thing in the Preschooler’s baby book. I basically live by my phone and the conveniences it offers. But, I thought it would be a good start to occasionally put a post-it note in their lunch boxes or homework folders with a little message they could find and read at school. I was pretty proud of myself for doing so earlier this week, especially when the older two girls told me how excited they were to find their notes. But, then I had this conversation.

Preschooler: I got that note you put in my lunch.
Me: Oh, yeah? Good!
Preschooler: Yeah. The teacher had to read it to me because you know I can’t read.
Me: Well, did you like it?
Preschooler {with a sigh}: Yeah. I thought you were never gonna send me a note, but you finally did.

Apparently I’m late to this game and she was less than impressed with my efforts.

She’s never been one to skimp on honesty. Yesterday I asked her if there was something in my teeth, and she said, “Nope. But they’re a little yellow.”

Thank you. I believe I’ll ask somebody else next time. 

Despite her lack of enthusiasm over her note, I’m not going to let the Preschooler thwart all of my efforts to bring back the art of handwritten correspondence in this family. I may even frame some of the best ones I found out in the garage as art for our walls. I think I’ll start with “George Washington’s” Old Fashioned Ginger Bread.