December 31, 2018
Letter # 365
Dear Vickie,
Well my year of letter writing is over. After writing 2018 over and over again, it will likely take months to make the switch to 2019.
The letter writing project has been much more introspective than pie baking and, in many ways, feels like a riskier venture. People were almost always grateful for a pie and the feedback was immediate; not so true with the letter writing. I know there were times when I wrote things to people that they probably didn’t want to hear. But those weren’t the hardest to write. The hardest ones were the times that I didn’t know the right thing to say, but I wrote something anyway; sometimes it was a hunch and sometimes I felt compelled.
The other half of the equation was the response. With letter writing, it was never immediate and many of the riskiest letters I wrote, received no response at all. To be fair, I never asked for, and tried to never expect, a response, but with many of the letters I wrote that included apologies or said things that were hard, I never heard a word. I’ll never know the impact they made. I don’t mean to discount their value. It was important to me to write them, if not to my recipient. In some ways, this was a very selfish project.
The other letters that were difficult were the ones I wrote to myself at different ages or to people who are no longer living. They took much care and thoughtfulness to construct. I know they will be my living legacy, as I sent them to people who mattered to me. Sometimes, maybe, they were too honest.
Most letters were not critical, self revealing or apologetic. Most letters expressed gratitude or appreciation. In the end, I can see that they have cultivated an attitude of gratefulness in me that is serving me well. I received responses of one kind or another from almost 30% of the people I wrote, sometimes a gift was included; note cards or a pin from the forest service fire fighters. Many times people were just glad to be remembered or appreciated.
As I look over my letters, I can see how uneven they are; some were thoughtfully constructed and carefully penned, others, not so much. On the days I was inspired and compelled to write, they were good and made a difference to me, if not to the recipient.
The project was also an exercise in research: who is this person?, where did that person go?, how do I reach them? I discovered some things, friends who have passed away, connections between my friends, and people who knew people I knew. And in one case I discovered a friend with a shared experience that we had never discussed.
I was surprised to discover that having a rule and deadline that required me to write, gave me an excuse, or at least an entrée to a recipient. It made it a little easier to drop a line to someone from my distant past or reveal an expected truth to a friend.
Quickly I learned that letters are very private communications that are intended to be shared by the writer and the recipient. In the beginning, I intended to share the content of all my letters. Very soon after starting, I changed my approach to only sharing letters that were written to public figures.
I’m really glad I didn’t limit myself in the kind of letters I wrote. I found the range and variety of letters I wrote to be exciting and encouraged me to explore. Like all communications, the possibilities are infinite. The handwritten nature of the letters was an experience. It certainly caused me to slow down and think, but I have to admit that I am immensely enjoying the ability to revise and improve this last typed letter.
And now I have cancelled my subscription to Whitepages (where I did my address research) and move on to my next year.
Onward and upward.
Vickie Hardin Woods