Updated: Jan. 16, 2016 | Originally Published: Sep. 24, 2015
Recently, I reached out to a friend via email to request her mailing address. Although we have met in person a couple of times after connecting through social media and our writing, I realized I still didn’t know her exact location. My intention was to send her a card to brighten her day.
It struck me as peculiar to use email just to find out where she lived simply to send a note. Why not just share my feelings directly in the email? The answer lies in my appreciation for tangible forms of communication. I favor expressing myself on paper over digital methods—most of the time, at least.
My affinity for paper correspondence can be traced back to my first job. I spent my high school and college years working at a greeting card shop, where I discovered a passion for cards and stationery. I enjoyed the orderly process of stocking shelves, interacting with a diverse clientele, and, of course, indulging in the fudge counter. My boss was strict, but I now recognize that her guidance helped prepare me for adulthood, particularly with lessons like counting back change—something I wish were more common today.
What truly captivated me were the cards themselves. I took full advantage of the employee discount, especially for whimsical Shoebox cards and Mrs. Grossman’s stickers. I would often buy cards “just in case” and store them in my closet, eager to have the perfect note at hand. My tastes have matured, and I now gravitate toward unique cards from independent bookstores and quirky gift shops, especially those featuring letterpress designs.
Browsing through card displays offers a glimpse into the full spectrum of life’s milestones: Birthdays, Weddings, New Homes, Farewells, New Jobs, Get Well Soon, Anniversaries, and Sympathy. Sadly, I find myself gradually reaching the end of that line with the cards I now purchase. Nonetheless, there’s something inherently satisfying about discovering a card that resonates with a particular person. The hunt for the perfect card—whether for a friend’s birthday or to express condolences—culminates in the act of putting pen to paper and sending it off with a mail carrier.
Receiving a card or letter provides a moment of connection that feels cherished, unlike the fleeting nature of a text or email. Such correspondence is often saved and appreciated far more than a quick message that may be overlooked in a crowded inbox. A paper card carries a sense of significance and thoughtfulness that is hard to replicate in digital formats.
Unlike the instant gratification of emails or texts, the process of buying and sending a card requires intention and planning. It often necessitates remembering key dates well in advance—three days for a birthday is standard (and yes, the Belated Birthday section has come to my rescue more than once). Is there truly a more appropriate way to extend sympathy or express gratitude than through a handwritten note? Recipients are likely to open a card in a quiet moment at home, rather than while rushing through a supermarket checkout line.
I appreciate the convenience of sending last-minute birthday wishes via text, but there’s a certain discomfort in doing so. We all know the feeling of sheepishly hitting send on a late message or, worse, receiving one that feels like an afterthought. With a paper card, even if it arrives late, there’s room for forgiveness; we can blame slow postage, and the sender earns points for making the effort to find and mail a card.
I relish the sound of ink gliding over paper, the texture of cardstock in my hand, and even the taste of envelope glue. I treasure the handwritten imperfections in the cards I receive. While an email typo may elicit judgment, correcting “your” to “you’re” in a personal note feels endearing. The handwritten annotations, including a thoughtful P.S. that spills onto the back with an arrow, reveal a glimpse of the sender’s thought process.
Having grown up in an era where paper was the primary medium for communication, I find the abbreviated digital expressions—like “HBD” or “so sorry for ur loss”—to be disheartening. Full words are fading from use. When did we lose the desire to invest in a card and express heartfelt sentiments that last longer than a fleeting moment? Writing with a pen forces us to think and reflect. There’s no backspace option, compelling us to take the time to clearly articulate our feelings.
Certainly, digital communication allows for speed and frequency, especially with acquaintances. We can edit and refine our messages to achieve a polished finish. However, I ponder the emotional costs of these trade-offs. Are we diluting our connections in the process?
Cards, adorned with illustrations and heartfelt messages, uplift both the sender and recipient. I recall the joy on customers’ faces when they found the perfect birthday card, or the somber expressions of those searching for words to acknowledge a loss. I remember grandmothers purchasing the largest, most elaborate cards to celebrate new grandchildren.
I once lived in a world devoid of Facebook birthday reminders, where well-wishes were penned on paper, leaving lasting impressions. I witnessed the magic in the aisles of card stores and understand the joy of receiving a card in my mailbox or, better yet, having a friend send one from afar.
In conclusion, the value of handwritten correspondence remains significant in today’s digital age. It creates genuine connections that transcend the limitations of electronic communication. For further insights on home insemination, you can explore this excellent resource regarding the success of various methods.
Summary:
This reflection emphasizes the importance of paper correspondence in a digital world. It outlines the emotional depth associated with handwritten notes, contrasting them with the fleeting nature of texts and emails. The author shares personal experiences from working in a card store, illustrating the joy of selecting the perfect card for meaningful moments. Ultimately, it advocates for the enduring value of tangible communication.