My One White Intrepid Flower

There, 

High up on the exalted green perimeter 

Of the Ornamental Garden,

Stood one white intrepid flower,

Surrounded by her yet-to-be-born sisters,

Blushing at her own unscheduled audacity 

While drinking from the warm, sweet reservoir

Of an early summer sun.

Why she, 

The one white blossoming flower

"Girls with White Flowers and Lanterns"
Painting by Singer Sargent

In that gray and sleeping bouquet,

Chose to be so courageous

While the others kept their distance,

Lacking the necessary resolve,

Is just one more manifestation

Of that Great Unanswered Question,

The Mystery of Life. 

Or perhaps 

She simply responded,

Without any need for coaching,

To the Siren Call of Being,

Deciding then and there that

One cannot wait for others

Who might not be quite ready 

For the flowering of their souls

Or the delicate scent 

And ravishing color

Of their own

Inimitable,

Unspeakable,

Irresistible

Beauty.

Ross Bachelder

June 19, 2012 

Writing Letters the Old Fashioned Way: Is It Really That Old Fashioned?

Let's talk about letters. No, not letters of the alphabet, but letters that in the early days were written by people who then closed the flap, licked and applied a three cent stamp  and walked down the street, where they then slipped them into the slot of that familiar cast iron blue box on a post, after which they were sent to Post Office Central, sorted out by the hands of actual humans, then sent on their way to some happy recipient. Well, not always happy. After all, letters, like the people who write them, cannot all be alike. 

Letters from Ohio, Wisconsin and 

Glasgow,  Scotland, Saved  and Trea-

sured Remnants  of a Disappearing 

Ritual...

We were once a nation of letter writers. For centuries, the art of epistolary expression was an indispensable component of the conduct of our daily business affairs. It was also the well-worn and much-anticipated pathway to the hearts and minds of people in distant lands. Of course, a few scant decades ago, before impatience and speed became the chief characteristics and inalienable right of men and women in the Modern Age, the idea of "distant" could be a mere five miles away, and one depended on the letter to keep in touch -- to hold together the tenuous fabric of a valued relationship.

Letter from the
American Civil War

Using a sheet of fine paper, a cherished fountain pen and the fruits of years of tutoring in the art of writing in cursive, we wrote letters to thank people for kindnesses or to register our anger over some egregious challenge to our sense of fair play and integrity. We wrote them to praise and persuade, to ask favors, to celebrate births and marriages or lament the passing of a loved one. And for centuries, men suffering from fear and loneliness have written letters from the War Front to loved ones desperate for assurance that the writer would make it home alive and well. Today, women serving in wartime or peacetime missions are doing the same thing.

A Victorian Era Letter,

Written  Without the Help

of Guidelines and Laced

With Ribbon and Bow.

More often, we wrote letters for a more prosaic reason -- merely to fulfill a universal need to keep our friends and family apprised of the sometimes unimpressive machinations of our own unique and yet entirely predictable day-to-day existences.


It all seems like a ghost from the past now. We cheerfully attended to the obligatory pen-to-paper ritual of seating ourselves at a favorite desk, entering an almost meditative, Zen-like state of mind, pouring a fraction of the essence of ourselves onto a blank paper, stuffing our literary opus into an envelope and sending it off with a quiet, unseen flourish and an almost unimpeachable trust that it would never fail to arrive, no matter how long it might take.


But that was then. I suppose it's true that we still write what we nostalgically refer to as letters. But their frequency, their appearance and the very warp and woof of their once carefully crafted sentences has changed dramatically.


Welcome to the Day of the Computer. 

A Modern-day Letter, Being Written
by An Actual Human Hand.

Before I talk about what I perceive as the shortcomings of letters written at the computer keyboard -- Wouldn't Mr. Vonnegut be horrified! -- let me assure you that I am not a purist about letter writing. Indeed, I dearly love sitting at my computer late at night, writing copious letters to my friends. I traverse a long and winding, never-ending river of business correspondence at the keyboard of my MacBook Air. And no amount of money could convince me to sacrifice the speed and efficiency of this particular approach to letter writing.


But writing personal letters at a computer keyboard cannot ever hope to replace the multi-sensory delight of writing to a friend, a relative or a lover on pastel colored, textured, aromatic paper, using the treasured writing impliment of one's choice and feeling the gentle, almost musical friction of nib against linen as those carefully chosen words of affection spill rhythmically and urgently from passionate heart onto welcoming paper.


Nor can getting a letter announced with the mechnical "ping" of a heartless, inhumanly punctual, maddeningly efficient PC possibly compare to receiving that same letter quite unexpectedly in the mailbox near your front lawn, ringed with fresh flowers, autumn leaves or a newly fallen blanket of snow.


Note, too, that unlike computer generated letters, a letter written the old-fashioned way does not tend to break down. Nor does it get wiped ignomineously away by the errant brush of a finger against the wrong key, a wrongly chosen command or some inexplicable, unforgivable cyber malfeasance, perpetrated from God knows where by God knows who, out in the preternatural soup of the World Wide Web.

Woman Writing Letter the Old Fashioned
Way -- in the Age of Vermeer

Those of you who have either never written a letter the old-fashioned way -- or who have quite forgotten what a pleasure it was, once upon a time, to write or receive a snail mail letter -- need to kick off your shoes, prepare a cup of tea, pull down the blinds, turn off the drone and sputter of yet another completely forgettable reality show, and just write to someone you care deeply for. 


You'll soon discover the difference between the two modes of operation when you get a phone call -- or, if you're lucky, an actual snail mail response -- praising you for having taken the time to actually write -- not type! -- a letter that looked, felt and indeed smelled as if it came from someone who has powerful feelings for you and wanted to express them not merely mechanically but artfully. It will be an aesthetic experience, not the mere completion of a chore. And you'll soon realize that you've been the fortunate recipient of a poignant, precious, lasting work of art.

He Misses the Love of His Life...

People tend to keep letters that were written the old-fashioned way. I know that I do! And every few weeks they tend to pull them from a drawer, feel them in their hands, read them again, and put them back with a smile on their face and a very good feeling in their heart. This has been going on since Abelard and Heloise, since John and Abigail Adams, since Robert and Clara Schumann. And with your help it will continue unabated well into a more sensitive, more heartwarming future than computers can ever hope to create.

Even Felines Fall in Love...

Think about it! There is simply nothing like reaching into your mailbox-by-the-road and pulling out a hand-written letter, full of those feelings and affirmations your heart has been longing for and thought it might never enjoy again, except in the synthetic, computer-produced way.


Try it. You'll see. And feel. And savor. I predict that you'll soon be hooked on writing letters, once a month or even more frequently, the old-fashioned way. And who knows? Someone may fall in love with you or become your life-long friend because of that letter. Wouldn't that be nice? And is that really old fashioned? I think not.


Now, if you will excuse me, I must shut down this mixed blessing of a machine, go to my late-night desk and pen -- yes, pen -- a letter to a friend. And I guarantee you that I'll sleep better for having done such a thing.


                                                                                   -- Ross Bachelder
                                                                                       June 5th, 2012