The Lost, “Caring,” of Letter Writers


There was a time in world history that letters were a main form of communication.  Thoughtfulness and respect, oozed forth from those quills, pen and paper.  The reason for saying that is because I just stumbled across an old letter written in Italian but translated into English.  The letter wasn’t long but it didn’t need have to be to succinctly get the message across.   The letter-writer wrote mainly to ask about the other’s welfare and was herself, mentioned only rarely.

I worry (of course my daughter would tell you that I worry too much) that writing will soon die out.  Cursive writing is no longer being taught in most schools because of technology today i.e.; e-mail, text messaging, and cell phones.

https://scontent-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xtp1/v/t1.0-9/11214719_10204994473360414_4823250930408835544_n.jpg?oh=3ddad5f6d405104e77a1e01579f8f285&oe=55CE6E59

English translation by, Michael A. Chaplin…

Dearest godmother Teresa, I hope you had a very good trip and that you and your children (?little daughter and sons) are in good health; we thank God that we are all well. Give me your news which I hope to hear is very good. Greetings to the family (?), greetings to your children and (?hugs) affectionately together to your (?little daughter). Yours affectionately (?) Nunziata Luizza

Well, it worries me because my daughter’s is the first generation to have no written record of themselves. An article on the importance of writing letters, humorously asks, “If Jefferson had sent text messages to Adams, think what would have been lost to history.” A valid thought, no doubt.

As Newsweek author, Malcolm Jones, finds the root of the problem and in his opinion it is, “Sifting through the sets of data. The most common complaint of our time is that we are overwhelmed by information, unedited and unstoppable.”

And so it goes…

 

 

 

Steve Richie

Hi folks, Two lives in one lifetime. The first me, lived to age thirty-four. That Steve was overly confident and oozing with pride. Then, on a record heat-setting day (107º) here in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota and western Wisconsin, a one car near-fatal wreck left me in a two-month long coma. I emerged much as I was before minus certain physical capabilities, but my mind seemed mostly in tact. The crash and its effects did not change me (I emerged a happy individual) but the deeds perpetrated against me in the ensuing months from my wife of sixteen years scared and humbled me as I was dragged down with nothing left by my wife who now had guardianship over all of our accounts. And neither would she allow me to see our kids. She took everything out of, "Our" names and changed them to her name only; then would not allow me to our home and divorced me. I was angry, but no more. I spent half of 1988 and more than half of 1989 in hospitals, nursing homes and a three month stint at a head-injury rehab center where I was being taught how to re-enter society as this different person, that I didn't know. I was not able to return to my previous line of work, a self-employed decorator, you know, painting and paperhanging. It was a physical job which required much dexterity, finesse, and a good grasp of numbers. I returned to the beginning, school, but on a community college level. One of the instructor's liked my writing and I began focusing my attention on that. I attended classes at, "The Loft," A Place for Writers in Minneapolis. While there, a classmate of mine was having her friend from New York, a CBS executive, to her home for the holidays and asked me if she could do a critique on a couple chapters of a book I was writing, "A Day I'll Never Remember" and I obliged. When she returned to class the following Monday she told me that the exec wanted a ten-page synopsis of the book for a possible movie; I was excited. After obliging for that also, I never saw or heard from her or the guy from CBS. Next thing I knew I was watching a movie called, "Regarding Henry" starring Harrison Ford and the scenes of therapy were exactly like what I went through and had written about. Regarding Henry - could've been my story except that, "Henry" got his head injury from a gunshot and his wife stayed with him throughout the ordeal. Coincidence I'm sure, though, the therapy scenes entailed what I described in the book so I always wondered..... My hope, my dream is to bolster our income for my daughter and for myself. I am and have been raising this beautiful, talented little girl who was diagnosed with autism at age two, since 2006 singlehandedly. I divorced her mother the same year following complaints that I spent too much time with our daughter. However, Stephanie began school with no need for special education. She has been reading since age four and understanding what she'd read. Stephanie maintains straight "A's" on her report card, has published two books (through school) and has been selected as an, "Honors" student for seventh grade English. My ex moved to New York to be closer to her sister and has been remarried now for a number of years. Well, that's only a snippet of my sixty-one years and I would like to thank you for reading, thank you.

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