I am an anachronism. I am an artisan. And frankly, I am a little embarrassed to post following what M put up yesterday. She far outclasses me when it comes to words.
Yet, thinking about what M wrote, I came up with a word. Maybe not my favorite word--that would be an impossible task--but a word that is part of why we are embarking on this journey. Ephemera. Loosely defined as something of no lasting significance that somehow manages to hold on. In a way, I think that it describes the Art of the Letter. A letter itself isn't meant to last forever. They tend to be created of organic materials that may not stand the test of time. But even then, the words on the paper live on within us. They can haunt us, like the waters haunted Maclean. Those words have been a reason for change, for war, and for so many glorious things--love and peace and celebration. Who among us doesn't remember the rush of getting something like that college acceptance letter in the mail, a welcome relief after the months of angusihed waiting. Or at Christmastime, when Grandma and Grandpa would send their annual card, and you just knew that there would be a surprise inside. That is the legacy of the letter.
While the legacy of the letter lives on, we fear that the art behind it is becoming lost. Children today have little concept of what it is to sit down at a desk or a typewriter, crisp sheet of paper before them, and pour out your soul for someone else. We want to revive that. Bring the joy of hearing words from a friend far away back into our lives. Tell another we love them in more than 3 words, in a way more lasting than fleeting breath. it is why we do what we do, why our pens and typewriters work overtime.
I hope my ramblings here today inspire you. We love our art, and want to share that love.
Written on my 1955 Smith Corona Silent-Super.