I'm an adult yet I recall with such vivid details how special I felt when my grandparents, relatives, or friends wrote to me when I was just a girl. Try to imagine how very special I felt when Mama brought in the mail, thumbed through it, and handed me a white envelope addressed to me only.
I had mail before I could read print. I had mail before I even knew how to read. Drawings counted to my kin back home. And, I loved writing mail after I learned to read and write. My letters bore great big old erasure holes on my single-page missives, but I was a letter-writing diva on a mission!
Learning to handle a ball point pen put me in the big leagues. Having Mama trust me to stick on my own stamp made me feel like a big girl! Stamp-licking got to be so good I'd lick off all the glue sometimes. My big sister eventually shamed me out of the habit, but learning becomes adult stories that outgrow embarrassment with age. And wisdom.
Writing to Aunt Pauline about all the lines I had to learn for the school play helped eased my fears. She always wrote words of encouragement that got me through. And Grandmother was good for writing about whippings. She never wrote to Mama to say "Ease up on my grandbaby." She just wrote, "You be a good girl now, okay?" Writing to my cousins about monsters and the "booger" man eased a lot of my childhood burdens and fears, so my heart leaped when I read about Letters to Japan. And, I was a child again, peering into the face of the little girl here:
I hope you read of their efforts. I hope you will join me in writing letters, and sending cards to young children in Japan, although I cannot imagine anyone there being without hope. They are a people who are as resilient as Americans, but let us write just the same.
Thank you. And send thanks to "A Year of Letters," and the "We Care Act."
Now, write on!