Letters! I get letters!

     For several years, I have written a weekly letter to my grandkids.  At the moment, there are twelve of them, soon to be thirteen, although that one won't be reading for a while.  There are weeks that I don't end up writing or weeks when I write to the whole group instead of the usual individual ones, but those are in the minority.  

     Several of them write to me most weeks, and some almost never write, and that's OK.  From a few of their letters, I can visualize their mother standing over them as they write the commanded thank-you notes for birthday and other presents.  

     I think that among the various ways of communicating, letter-writing has become an old-timey thing, though I admit that I use e-mail to deliver mine to the grandkids.  When I read the personal letters of people like John and Abigail Adams, I am impressed by their eloquence and command of the language, to a degree rarely seen today.  

     In my far-more-humble missives, I try to include pictures, the goofier the better, and I attempt to customize the news and comments of the week.  While Edwin may appreciate the technical details and Joseph may like the adventures, I know that Eleanor could care less about my latest interactions with Air Traffic Control.  

     From the older granddaughters in Kazakhstan I get the latest news about horseback riding and interactions with other teenagers who live there, as well as things happening in their family of seven kids.  From a grandson in Jacksonville, North Carolina I hear about cross-country meets and his part-time job.   

     William Sherwood is an enthusiastic six-year-old living with his six siblings and parents there in Astana.  He is beginning to tackle handwriting and spelling.  A week or two ago, he presented his mom with a personal note to me, already in a hand-made envelope, and asked her to address and stamp it.  It made its way to the 'pouch' and arrived yesterday in our mailbox.  

     As noted, he even constructed the envelope, by folding over a piece of printer paper, placing his letter inside and carefully stapling the open edges.  And I mean stapling!  I think this kid may have a future in the package fulfillment universe!

     The letter within was a heartfelt expression of his appreciation for having been at the beach with me, and how he's looking forward to seeing me again.  While there may have been minor errors in spelling, there was no doubt as to the letter's sincerity, nor the effort taken in writing it.  

     I have fun communicating with my grandkids, but I believe that there is real value to it.  While it may be a useful exercise for both them and me, I believe that it's a way for them to come to know their grandparents, and that's more important.  I plan to continue, at least until my spelling gets worse than Big Bill's.

Dave