A couple of Saturdays back, I wrote a post about “The Lost Art of Letter Writing.” While most of the details of the post are behind the paywall of my SubscribeStar page, the meat of the post was in the preview: letter-writing is an intimate, thoughtful, and fun way to connect (or reconnect) with old friends and family.
I started my bout of letter writing fifteen days ago, sending out ten postcards I’d purchased at Universal Studios for $12. After churning through those postcards, I found two greeting cards in a drawer, and send those out. The cards had nothing to do with Christmas—a former student over a decade ago gave them to me, and they featured a photograph of a lizard he’d taken in the desert—but they were better than nothing.
By that point, facing some free time and having caught the bug, I wrote two letters. Lacking cards or postcards, I turned to an old notebook I’d picked up at Target years ago—a simple spiral-bound, ruled notebook with a wacky robot on the cover. The single page opened up new vistas of development, allowing for slightly longer, more detailed letters.
The Portly Politico 