Since this tribute belongs in all the categories, I’ve headlined them all.
Remember having a Pen Pal? Do kids still do that anymore? I remember even when I was older, writing to a co-worker’s son who was stationed in Vietnam, and the excitement of his coming home safely. We didn’t see each other much after he did come home, but I had looked forward to his letters just as he seemed to look forward to mine. And the nemesis of teachers everywhere–passing notes in class. I did that constantly throughout elementary school, especially with my best friend, Virginia. Well, I was reminded of pen pals and note-passing today when I realized that comments from Blog Pals seem to get me through a lot of my waffling and agonizing decisions when I share them here on Spinning.
I like to comment when appropriate on the blogs I visit daily (when I remember that very few others are entering new posts between 2 am and 7 am!) and as I feel it rude to read something someone’s said and if I get that feeling of Yeah, that’s how I feel (or not), or can offer support or just find myself nodding my head in agreement or shaking it in sympathy, I usually will add a comment. Although sometimes I feel like I’m trying to have the last word or just have to add my useless two cents, I do try to second guess myself as to the motivation, and it’s usually an OK to leave a note.
One lady in particular lately has been open to my vacillating frame of mind and has been an awesome pen pal; Lauren, of Him, Them and Me. Maybe it’s because as a writer herself she seems to understand the process—the progress both forward and backward necessary to get ahead. She’s tackled quite a load herself in life, and puts forth eloquent posts and poems on her weblog, as well as sharing her fears of cancer right now. She’s quite a lady.
To Lauren, and all of you (and where the hell is Joanne of Off The Rails, anyway? I can’t find her new site!) I consider you more than pen pals or blogging buddies. I consider you friends. Thank you !
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I have a pen pal that I’ve exchanged emails with for about 10 years – before that it was just Christmas cards – I haven’t seen her in over 20 years – she is the sister of someone I hung out with – they both moved away. The thing is – with the 3 x weekly email exchange, I consider her one of my closest friends – I tell her more than anyone else. I think pen pals are a wonderful thing! It’s interesting that you mentioned them in your post – I’ve been meaning to write a post to dedicate to Glenda. She doesn’t really read my blog unless I ask her to to save me writing a sotry a second time when I’m feeling lazy.
Two times in my life I tried to gain a penpal and each time ended in disappointment and bitter anger. That’s not, I would hope, the norm.
The first time was in grade school where we all, as a class, joined some program where a grade school in some other part of the country would offer its students to be our penpals. We all got names and we wrote out letters to the person. I recall mine being a female. In any case, she never responded to my initial mailing. In fact, she never responded to any of my subsequent mailings either. As time went on, everyone in the class got a response but me. Worst part of it all is that since we took class time to write our letters, I was forced to keep writing this girl for half the school year regardless of her silence! The idea was that we would write on a regular basis during school and when we let out for the summer, we were encouraged to continue writing on our own. So when it came time to write the last letter of the school year, I decided to get even. I wrote a five page response to a letter I never got. And judging from my comments, that fictional letter my penpal had written was cruel and seeping with evil. Knowing that the teachers always read the letters before sending them off, I’d like to think someone somewhere gave her a stern talking to.
The second time I tried to latch onto a penpal was online in the winter of 1994. Again, this was a possible penpal of a female persuasion. I don’t recall how I found out about her. I seem to think it was an online penpal service. She was some college girl in North Carolina, I think. Anyhow, I thought it would be fun and her self-description seemed to be carefree and interesting. She promised to respond to all, so what the heck. I proceeded to write a lengthy funny tale about my trip to Virginia. I don’t remember what I wrote exactly and I foolishly didn’t think I’d be talking about it in 2004 enough to save it. But it was good and funny. (There was something in it about a cow, I recall that much.) I put my heart and soul into that introduction letter. I know fully that she probably had a good dozen others writing to her, I needed to stand out. So I did my best to be entertainingly impressive. What did I get back? Two sentences. I paraphrase, “You’re really funny. Its going to be fun having you as a penpal.” Thats it! Sure it would be great to have me as your penpal, I’m doing all the work! Sorry sister, went through that in grade school.
Must have read that response at least a dozen times. Kept expecting something else showing up in my inbox. But nothing. Even when I was too flabergasted to respond myself, she never wondered why I came on so strong to disappear so quickly.
So that’s my sad and twisted tale of penpal relationships. Luckily, aside from a tic in my left eye upon hearing the word, my negative penpal experiences haven’t affected my life too much for the worst.
Wendy, I’m glad I brought up good memories of pen pals, and by the way, I considered you as well in this tribute, you know.
Marc, uh, I’m sorry I stirred up some bad karma with the pen … subject. I must admit while reading your comment tugged at my heartstrings and elicited a good amount of “aah, gee…” I did laugh at the end–my sadistic humor having been stirred up as well.
But a thought (and hopefully one that will mitigate your retrospective depressing memories), perhaps the receivers of your notes were simply intimidated by your excellent writing and sense of humor. Feeling inadequate in their own literary skill, they chose to stick to their own level of semi-literate eloquence rather than embarrass themselves.
Honest–it could happen; you’re good!
Are you trying to make me weepy this morning? My eyes are watering and I’m humbled by your words. I started blogging in a feeble attempt to make sense of my collapsing world. I also hoped that blog writing would encourage me to write on a more regular basis, and as my writing has in the past, help save me from the rising pain and panic.
I never envisioned connecting with so many wonderful bloggers. People that would become friends and offer encouragement, prayers and inspiration to keep going down this difficult road. I didn’t foresee the swell of humanity that I would encounter and I feel blessed. You — and your blog, have been among the lights that shine when my room starts to descend into darkness.
Thank you for your friendship,
Lauren