A Love Letter to Letters

Here's a little known fact about me:

I LOVE to write letters.

Thank you notes, life updates scribbling on pages of stationary, simple "thinking of you" sentiments--I love them all. There's something about pen to paper, the etching of one element onto another, that's incredibly personal and intimate to me. It takes time and thought to write a letter, time and thought that allows you to consider the person you're writing to and what they mean to you--even if it's as seemingly impersonal as a thank you for a job interview.

I also love stamps. The USPS offers countless types of stamps- American flags, farmers markets, birds, historical events, Harry Potter, famous people, nativity scenes- that show the personality of the person. They allow you to show who you are, what you like, in the tiniest of ways. Individuality the size of a postage stamp. "Forever," they read. Because mail will never die away.

Arguably my favorite feature of a letter is the stationary. While I love a good Hallmark card, it's the plain, everyday, set-of-10 stationary that captures my heart. My trip to Italy this past January was not complete until I visited a paper store. My favorite aisle in Target is the one lined with boxes of flowers, anchors, thanks yous, and stripes, all tantalizing me as I walk by. When I pull out a fresh card to send to a friend or family member, I gently run my fingers over the soft inside before I begin. The beauty in letter writing isn't always in the words; it's in the presentation.

Pens (never pencils) are important to a good letter experience; yet the element I neglect the most. In my brief moment of free time when I can etch out a note, the closest pen is typically the one chosen. Yet two years ago, when I sat down with my box of 50 thank you cards and a list of graduation presents, it was my fountain pen I chose. The elegant, ink flowing pen stoked each card with gratitude and cursive. An experience; not a chore.

They say the post office is losing money. They say the art of letter writing is dying. They say our world needs immediate gratification, and letters just won't cut it. Yet I check my college mailbox every day, hoping for a note. Ready to respond with a crisp blue card of my own. Because the thoughts that take time to come are often the thoughts worth saying.

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Below the Line:

• I had an AMAZING fall break at Disney World with my family. We had so much fun riding Seven Dwarfs Mine Train and exploring the parks. A great place to spend time with my dear family.
• On that note...three weeks until Thanksgiving Break!
• Indiana had its first snow this past Friday. I can't believe we're at that point in the year when snow enters the weather forecasts. I can't say I'm excited, but there's nothing like white snow in December (about the only month I appreciate it).

On Location | Landmark for Peace Memorial

If I was a poet, this is the place where you'd see a lovely lyric about the meaning of the Landmark for Peace, what it was like to be there and maybe even a flashback to Robert Kennedy's speech.

I am not a poet (and I probably never will be). But there was something cool about seeing the Landmark for Peace Memorial. I've been taught for years about the speech Robert Kennedy gave in Indianapolis the day Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. How his speed is accredited for stopping any riots that might have occurred.

But this sculpture is more than that. A couple from Michigan was at the memorial at the same time my friend Jordan and I were there. The man couldn't look away. His wife had already walked back to the car, but he thoroughly read both signs and looked up at the two men reaching out towards each other. He seemed deep in thought, and I felt as if I was intruding.

It's when I see this picture that I get what that guy was thinking. How these two people, both important in the Civil Rights movement, reach for each other, but can't seem to touch. How, even now, their dreams are not fully realized. But how easily the space between their hands could be filled- if only.

I got to stand there with one of my best friends, who actually suggested we check out the memorial. I didn't even know it was there. But I also got to stand there with the thousands of Hoosiers who stood there before me, hearing the news that Martin Luther King was killed. They had a choice how to react, and they chose peace.

And I thought, "Surely one day, the hands can close."

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Hello Below-the-Line readers! I hope you enjoyed this post. I thought I would try a little writing exercise, taking a photograph from the past week and freewriting about it. I'm thinking of doing this more often, if it works out.

Also, if you haven't already, check out the Scribbling in the Margins' Twitter at @scribblemargins! I tweet out new posts, as well as little random tidbits throughout my day.Think of it as a little "behind the scenes."

Happy Tuesday!