My grandmother insists on keeping in touch via snail mail instead of phone calls or text messaging. At first, I thought this would be too tedious to keep up. Why would I write letters that take several days to arrive when I can just type up a text message in a few minutes and hit the send button? As I penned my first letter, however, I realized how much more meaningful a handwritten message could be. I took more time to think about what I wanted to say and how exactly I wanted to say it. I felt strangely giddy to find her reply in my mailbox and oddly satisfied to hold the envelope in my hands, hearing the crinkle of paper between my fingers as I unfolded it to see her looping cursive handwriting. I realized how much I had taken this lost art form for granted.
Our generation has become heavily dependent on technological communication. Most of my daily interactions with others, both professional and personal, are done through texting, Facebook messages and emails because these methods are quick and easy to use. I don’t even have to look at the keyboard when I type; I use it so much that I unconsciously know which keys to press. As I prepare to graduate college, I’m learning how to prepare for phone and Skype call interviews in addition to traditional face-to-face interviews. This new tech-savvy world has made our lives much more efficient, yet it has also made handwritten communication almost nonexistent.
For many students at my soon-to-be alma mater, Soka University of America (SUA), the art of handwritten messages is kept alive through the school’s “culture of care.” At our small liberal arts college with under 450 on-campus students, it’s normal to see little candies and sticky notes left in front of people’s doors with messages like “Good luck with finals! You can do it!” or “Thank you for letting me borrow your vacuum!” I’ve collected so many of these notes over the years and use them to decorate my walls and give me encouragement whenever I feel stressed and overwhelmed by my responsibilities. My own handwriting resembles messy chicken scratch more than actual letters, but I also try my best to return the favor and leave notes for my friends and underclassmen. After I graduate, I plan to save and scrapbook all the heartwarming notes I received as a reminder of all the connections and friendships I formed here. Sadly, I thought the end of my undergraduate career would also signify an end to my note collection, but what if it doesn’t have to? Why not spread this “culture of care” outside of SUA?
Our lives offer so many opportunities to express ourselves through writing, but how often do we actually write? True, it’s so easy to buy a fancy-looking card from the store and sign your name underneath the prewritten “Thank You” or “Happy Birthday” font. But a handwritten message shows that you devoted time out of your busy schedule to sit down, think about how to put your emotions into the right words and write them out on paper. It’s a physical manifestation of your effort and your sincerity.
This practice isn’t limited to your inner circle of close friends and family, either. When I put together my resume this semester, my career mentor advised me to send a thank you note every time I’m asked to be interviewed. A handwritten thank you card can help you stand out for a job interview and make you memorable when you’re trying to network in a world where Microsoft Office experience and a Bachelor’s degree are standard fare. Even if you don’t get the job, a simple message like “thank you for your consideration” will leave a lasting impression that could prove beneficial in the future.
Next time you want to send someone a message, whether its professional or personal, consider picking up a pen and paper instead of a phone or computer keyboard. I guarantee the lasting impression will be worth the extra 5-10 minutes out of your day.
