Handwritten Email
It's no secret that I'm a HUGE fan of email. I love email. I write it, read it, re-read it, type more of them, type still more of them, dream about them . . . . okay, I don't dream about email. But I do enjoy the email. I have a great talent for writing funny emails. I don't know why that's my talent. It doesn't pay much. But I do enjoy it.

I have a lot of conversations over email. It's so easy to converse that way. Easier for me than actually conversing, to tell you the truth. I'm much better at writing than speaking. Some emails even turn into really cool conversations, hold deep meaning, resolve issues, and help me connect with people. Relationships have strengthened over email.

It's a strange thing, this electronic writing that we do. It can get personal.

But sometimes, I wish it was more personal. I miss letters and notes. I miss handwriting. I may have a few friends whose handwriting I wouldn't recognize in an emergency. What if one of them wrote me a letter and forgot to sign it? What if they promised me a million dollars if I could only match a handwriting sample to whichever friend had the million dollars? I'd never know who it was from and I would certainly lose the million dollars because we don't write stuff to each other these days. We email.

There's something really great about getting actual mail in your actual mailbox, or handing a card to someone. I find I'm more likely to keep a handwritten note or card, rather than an email. When my inbox gets too cluttered, I hit the 'delete' button, erasing epiphanies and realizations and touching moments and good conversations with just a simple keystroke.

The other night I was looking for something and I found myself looking through a drawer of old cards and notes. The bulk of them were from several years ago, less and less in more recent years. It was cool to see letters and cards from friends and family, their handwriting on the pages, making a mark to identify who they are. I can write pages and pages over email, every letter of every word looking exactly the same in type-written format. But the few notes I caught myself reading in this drawer of old cards were really special in just a few short sentences of sloppy, uneven, wonderful handwriting.

Of course, there is a downside to keeping these notes and cards. Mixed among the cards that brought a smile to my face, I found cards from people who aren't in my life anymore. People who were friends and who were close, but now they aren't. Sentiments expressed and promises made that aren't kept anymore. There on paper, in handwriting, and now meaningless and hurtful. I hung on to that stuff because it meant something and was special at the time. Did it really mean anything then? If it did, would I be left now with only these pieces of paper and scratches of pen markings as reminders?

It's hard to think at the time when you receive a really meaningful note that it could one day be painful to read. You want to keep it, to remember it, to enjoy that good feeling from that moment again. So, you hang onto it. Eventually you forget about it, until one day you find it again. But those same words that were encouraging or special now hurt because the situation and the people have changed. It's funny how seeing that handwriting again brings up memories and emotions. It's a signature in more ways than one.

Still, I miss the handwriting. And I'm glad I keep the important notes and cards, even if the meaning changes over time. When I think about the people who aren't in my life anymore for one reason or another, the things I know they've touched become just a little more important, especially if that's all I have left of them or that time or that relationship. If it was worth throwing it away, I would. But I hang on to the ones that are meant to be kept.

Admittedly, I send a lot less cards and notes now than I used to send. People get a lot less handwritten things from me. It's just easier to shoot an email. Sometimes I print out emails that I really want to keep, but usually I forget to do that before it's time to clean out my emails. Even when I remember, there's something stale and sterile about a stack of white 8 1/2 x 11 paper in Arial font. Everything from everyone looking exactly the same.

Important words and great conversations. But a little less personal in email format.

I need to invent a way for emails to be written in an individual's own handwriting. That would solve the problem and bridge the two worlds- unique and personal messages with the convenience and ease of email.

I'm brilliant.

Don't steal my idea. I'll put it in writing.

C.T.