Charlotte Latvala: Revisiting letters from the past
“In 19th-century Russia, we write letters. We write letters.”
So goes a number in the musical “Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812,” which I had the good fortune to see a few weeks ago. (It’s a fantastic rendering of a snippet of Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” — highly recommended.)
You know who else wrote letters? Teenagers in the 1970s. Parents with kids at college in 1982. Anyone back then who couldn’t afford crazy expensive long-distance phone calls.
I recently got around to sorting through boxes of memorabilia from my late mother’s house, plowing through old report cards, random photos, and countless drawings of horses.
Tour books from our trip to New Orleans in 1973. Copies of my college bills (in 1980, going to a small liberal arts college in Ohio for a year cost less than you’d pay for a not-very-good used car today.) More sketches of horses.
And letters. So many letters.
I unfolded the first one, written on a stiff, rose-colored notecard, and saw my mom’s slanting hand.
The subject matter wasn’t profound. She told me about happenings in our hometown, at our church, and among her friends. She asked about my college classes and roommates. She reminded me to go to the bursar’s office and give them a check, which must have been enclosed in the note.
But through the mundane chat, I could hear her voice.
Which is when I realized this project was not going to be the work of an afternoon. Reading (sometimes deciphering) hand-written letters takes time. Revisiting the mental and emotional landscape of the past takes energy.
Each missive took me back to a specific place and era, with more accuracy than photos of the same places and people.
The biggest surprise: How many letters from high school still existed. I had forgotten how we spent our study halls writing notes to each other, filled with excruciating minutia and bad jokes.
Even worse: Bits and pieces of my own writing, everything from stories about horses (naturally), to embarrassing slices of fan-fic (I’m so sorry, Elton John!), to a confusing spy novel I started with my best friend. (She’d write a chapter, ending with a cliffhanger, hand it to me to write the next chapter, and so on.)
Fast forward to the first semester of college, when I wrote and received as many letters as a Victorian heroine. Letters from family, friends, and old boyfriends. So many pages.
Are kids today deprived of this? Or are digital communications enough?
They’ll never have the thrill of finding a thick envelope, juicy with gossip, in the mailbox. The disorienting — yet magical — feeling of opening a letter and hearing the sender’s voice in your head.
I’m still not halfway through the box. There may yet be some other “oh wow” moments. But already, I’m determined to do one thing: Write a real, pen-and-paper letter to each one of my kids.
Does anyone remember how to fold a note into a little football?
Charlotte is a columnist for The Times. You can reach her at charlottelatvala@gmail.com.
This article originally appeared on Beaver County Times: Charlotte Latvala: Revisiting letters from the past
