Frequently these days my friends in education tell me schools are no longer teaching cursive writing.
I can’t imagine. You won’t be able to sign your own name?
I’m hardly old, but I feel as though I’ll be judged that way when I say I “still” write notes or send cards to friends. An e-mail birthday card doesn’t cut it with me. You can’t save them and treasure them. Or is that the point? Do people no longer want cards & letters cluttering up their lives?
I came across a stack of letters from college friends the other day. They were written years ago, before e-mail, Facebook, or the plethora of other ways to communicate. I laughed a lot and cried just a little when I read them. We were so optimistic and idealistic, in love or embarking on new careers, moving across the country or across the ocean. We hadn’t faced the responsibilities and disappointments life throws at you as adults.
What about journal entries? I stopped writing in a journal a few years back when I was falsely accused of a crime. I didn’t want personal thoughts taken into evidence and made public record. As it turns out, there was never a real risk of that happening, but it frightens me it could. I miss the writing, though.
I have two blank journals I’d bought in anticipation of the events and feelings I’d enter in them. My fear holds me back from writing, and I’m deeply saddened.
I like the feel of the pen in my hand. I won’t give that up.
If I’m like my mom, my hands someday will fail me and writing will become a challenge I no longer want to take on. Until that time, I hope I don’t stop handwriting thoughts and letters.
Image Credit: © artender — Dollar Photo Club