I am always trying to write more letters. So I was very pleased when our sisterhood at church organized a pen-pal match-up, for anyone who wanted to exchange letters once a month with another woman in the group. I got matched up with Gwen, and she and I were thrilled about that; we somehow rarely get a chance to talk or be together outside of church services, so letter writing is perfect for us. We have been writing back and forth now for a year, though we may have fallen off a bit lately.
Because of all this, I loved reading what Donald Hall had to say to an interviewer on the subject. I am sad that people like him seem to be a “dying breed.” Do you think there is any hope of a revival of letter-writing? Even people without smart phones often use a computer to write emails instead of paper-and-ink letters.
Last Christmas I gave all my younger grandchildren ten stamped postcards each. They were of various designs, from my huge collection of postcards that remain from when I often wrote them to the (now older) grandchildren, and was for a time sending postcards all over the world as a member of Postcrossing. I included in the Christmas packages a list of their cousins’ and my addresses, and told them that postcards are fun because you only need to write a few words to fill up the page; it’s an easy way to let people know that you think of them.
This post would not be complete without mentioning my friend Di, who has neither a computer nor a smart phone, and writes me a letter at least twice a year. She is one of the best letter-writers I have ever known, and I should write a whole post just featuring excerpts from her witty missives to me. I doubt a letter from Donald Hall could please me as much as hers do.
INTERVIEWER:
Another subject. You’re notorious for answering letters. Is your heavy correspondence related to your art? Doesn’t it get in the way?
DONALD HALL:
Sometimes I wonder, Do I write a letter because it’s easier than writing a poem? I don’t think so. Letters take less time than parties or lunches. How do people in New York get anything done? My letters are my society. I carry on a dense correspondence with poets of my generation and younger. Letters are my café, my club, my city. I am fond of my neighbors up here, but for the most part they keep as busy as I do. We meet in church, we meet at the store, we gossip a little. We don’t stand around in a living room and chat—like the parties I used to go to in Ann Arbor. I write letters instead, and mostly I write about the work of writing.
http://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/2163/the-art-of-poetry-no-43-donald-hall
This week so far I have seen patches of the starry sky through the window from my bed, and through narrow gaps in the tree canopy as I walked along the gravel road coming back from a campfire.
But I know that I will like to read on the plane, and read in my room before going to sleep at night, so I must choose what to take along. This book that I discovered in my Kindle, Make a List, looks appealing for a few summery reasons.
It occurs to me that my attempt at Bullet Journaling was kind of list-y. Unfortunately I always felt the need to elaborate and my bullet points swelled into paragraphs. It will be necessary to keep these lists in a different category from journaling altogether. I haven’t written one thing in my journal for a month or two, which feels scary. Maybe I’ve already made the break?
The telephone conversation is, by its very nature, reactive, not reflective. Immediacy is its prime virtue. The immediacy delivers quick company, instant stimulation; the stimulation is cathartic; catharsis pushes back anxiety; into open space flows the kind of thought generated by electric return.
Gladsome Lights 