How to Write a Letter

Some months ago a young man I know texted me with his thanks for a letter I’d sent. He apologized at length for not writing back because, as he said, “No one ever taught me how to write a letter.” Feeling his plight, I took it upon myself to make an offering and sent him a polished case containing some very nice stationery and an array of colorful postage stamps, all accompanied by the following letter:

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A Letter need not be a novel. Nor any kind of fiction. A letter will always be your best opportunity to say precisely what you want to say in exactly the way you want to say it. Even if it’s just to say, “Hello. How are you?” Some of the most delightful letters I’ve ever received have been two or three sentences long. But even a letter so brief can be wonderful, and quite revealing of the sender’s personality. Whether offering sympathy for an injury or loss, lending reassurance during a period of turmoil, or simply to share an amusing story, a letter can do many magical things.

As people we are deeply mysterious creatures who rarely catch a glimpse of someone else’s truth. But I encourage you to embrace the act of letter writing. If you keep copies of what you write, they become pieces of your own truth that you can reassemble years from now into a clearer picture—not necessarily of who you were back then, but of the person you were in the process of becoming. We are forever evolving as people. No one ever arrives at being just one person with just one set of values. Good people, inquisitive open minded people, are always in the process of “becoming”. They take in new information all the time and are always absorbing. My father is 102-years-old and is still learning new things every day. He is one of the smartest, most decent, peaceful, and happy people I have ever known.

So please, write letters. When you read them back to yourself many years from now they will give you an amazing perspective of the journey you have taken as a person, a citizen, and as a creature of value. Any letters you receive in return can also be wonderful snapshots of the best people in your life. Most importantly though, the ability to write a good letter is something people will prize in you above all other gentlemanly traits.

HOW TO WRITE A LETTER

STEP ONE: Be Honest

Write your letters in the simplest, cleanest language you can manage. Express your thoughts on any subject that strikes your fancy. But don’t be fancy. And always be honest. My mother told me, “If you can’t say something nice about someone, then don’t say anything at all.” I noticed that when she remarked on someone not particularly pleasant, she found a way of expressing it diplomatically such as, “He wasn’t as social as one might have hoped.” or “We didn’t really get along but I’m sure she was giving it her best effort.”

When people have wronged me and I am describing what they did in a letter, I rely on diplomacy as well. If I’m discussing a third party in a letter (or in face-to-face encounters) I choose my words carefully. I pretend that if the person I’m writing about were ever to see this letter and read how I described them, they would not see me as cruel, but honest. It’s the decent thing to do, keeps me from being a gossip, and inspires me to follow my better angels. If you need to write about someone who has hurt you, by all means tell the truth. But never be mean about it.

And one more thing, if I have made a mistake or behaved badly, I am quick to admit my error and apologize. A letter is good for that too. In this day and age owning your faults is practically unheard of because nobody does that. But if you do it, you will be seen as incredibly mature. I want you to be that very rare exception—the one person people admire, respect and, most important of all, trust. We will always have the highest regard for anyone with the confidence to admit they are human. That brand of courage is in short supply these days. Saying you’re sorry is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of consideration for others and all the very best people do it.

STEP TWO: Be Brief

Nobody likes people who ramble. Especially when they’ve nothing of substance to relate. Personally, I’ve never been comfortable speaking to people and have become expert at hiding my bashfulness. But at heart I’m still incredibly shy, feeling I hardly have anything worthwhile to say. Another trick of my mother’s was to ask questions: “If you don’t know what to say to someone, ask them about themselves. People always like to talk about themselves.” Of course the secret is to actually listen to what they’re saying. It allows you to engage and even redirect the conversation. Of course when it comes to writing a letter, this logic works by mentioning some event that’s going on and turning your narrative into a query. “I had a rough week. I’m curious what you do to take your mind off your troubles.” Or… “Nobody ever mentions my great grandparents and I sometimes wonder if maybe there’s a criminal in our family tree that no one talks about. Does your family ever discuss your ancestors?”

If you can’t think of much to say, questions are usually a safe way to proceed. At the very least, it demonstrates your interest in them. You don’t have to fill up pages and pages. Everybody (and I mean everybody) loves receiving a letter. That you took the time to sit down and lay a few kind paragraphs on paper, place it in an envelope, add a stamp, and mail it will absolutely make them feel truly valued. If they actually write back, even better.

Be prepared for most people not to write back. But don’t think that means they don’t value you too. It’s a just that a lot of folks, like yourself, believe they don’t know how to write a letter. Prove them wrong. Keep writing. We learn by doing.

STEP THREE: Be Hopeful

Finding a letter in the mailbox is almost certain to generate the biggest smile. Imagine that feeling when you receive a letter from someone else. And knowing how rarely people send actual letters, you can appreciate how an envelope with your return address on it will be cause for them to celebrate. Don’t disappoint them.

While it’s not your job to cheer up the world, and there’s no law that says a letter must only be good news, remember that people get enough bad news everywhere else in their lives. So try to remain curious about what’s going on in their life, how it’s affecting them, and if there might be a positive perspective you can offer. If there is bad news to relate, then be gentle. But for the most part, focus on hopeful conversation. And always end on an uplifting note.

So that’s it.

I know I’ve written a lot to you here. But please don’t be intimidated by all these “words”. They’re just words. You told me that no one ever taught you how to write a letter, which I love. Because it’s something you have no experience with and would like to try. We are at our most genuine when asking for help.

So now,… write me a letter.

Take a page and start at the top with the date. Dates are very important. I like to do my dates in the European fashion: Day first / Month second / Year last. It appeals to my sense of continuity with the smallest increment building to the greatest. However most Americans write the date as: Month first / Day second / Year last—perhaps because we are so used to saying it that way aloud. Use whichever feels right for you.

Next write, “Dear Michael,”.

Then write two or three or four sentences about anything at all that comes to mind. Keep it brief and upbeat. But honest. Remember, I’ll be so thrilled to have gotten a letter—which rarely happens for me—that it really won’t matter how long or short the writing is.

Next do a pleasant sign off. (“Sincerely,” or “Regards,”, or “With hopes that you are well,”.)

And finally, sign it.

Fold the letter neatly, place it in an envelope, and seal it gently. When you address the envelope be sure to print very clearly so there’s no chance they will not be able to read it at the post office. Few things are more disappointing than getting your own letter returned because it was “undeliverable” with the wrong address, or that the post office could not decipher your handwriting.

Your name and address go in the upper left corner on the front of the envelope, my name and address half way down and nicely centered, and lastly, a stamp gets securely fastened in the upper right corner.

Most home mailboxes have a red flag on the side. If yours has one you can place your letter in your mailbox and raise the red flag. When this flag is in the “up” position it tells the mail carrier that there is “outgoing” mail in the box and they will collect it, put the red flag back down, and take the letter with them to the post office. If you do not trust this method or you prefer to mail it yourself, you can deposit your letter in a public mailbox, leave it at an authorized postal center, or mail it at an official U.S. Post Office.

On a personal note, if my letter is going to someone for whom I have great affection, after I fold the finished letter, I touch my lips to it before it goes in the envelope. The recipient will never know that I enclosed a kiss. But I’ll know.

If you decide to take up letter writing trust me when I say it will be one of the most rewarding things you will do in your life. I’m proud of you and can’t wait to hear stories of your continued progress.

With very best wishes,

Michael

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It’s been almost a year since I sent this package and I’ve yet to receive a response from him. I don’t know that I will. But then again, I never expect reciprocation for any letter I write. The joy is always in the sending. Though I do wonder if perhaps my parcel to him ought to have included a pen.

Broken

The idea that anything or anyone could be born broken relies on the conceit that the born thing must have at one time in its past been in good working order to begin with. Still the feeling that nothing worked the way it should have from the start weighs heavily on any number of people I know.

Melted.Ice.Cream.2758.A

It’s wrong in my opinion to identify with one’s damage. We are more than our broken places, more than our shattered intentions, more than deeds we couldn’t bring to life or heroes we never quite managed to become. We are far better than our shortcomings, which are so necessary to guide us in our quest to better ourselves. In this regard there are two kinds of people — those consumed by their mistakes and those inspired by them.

It is pointless to walk a mile in another man’s shoes simply to discover how he feels. If you are a true human being, walk the most difficult mile there is to walk — in your own shoes. Only then will you own every success and failure and only then will you understand the breadth of emotions that any other man feels in running that gamut. If he has done the same then he will know you as well.

I am not unsympathetic to the struggles of another. I merely realize that I must first understand the nature of struggle itself before I presume to compare mine to theirs. Unwell though we may be, and occasionally crushed and devoid of all that makes us beautiful, it is incumbent upon us to keep getting up, to keep moving forward, to leave defiant footprints in the efforts we make to grow beyond our damage. Brokenness only works to our benefit when we leave it behind.

Departures

bride-of-frankenstein-end-title
Dogs have the most wonderful personalities to me. As it turns out, they have no concept of the future whatsoever. Have you noticed they also don’t seem to hold onto past grievances? You can forget your adorable mutt’s breakfast when you’re running late and he still loves you when you return home at night. Aside from learned behavior and instinct, there’s no preoccupation of future or past for them. Everything to a dog is right here, right now. This, according to research, is a statistic. I’d love to see that research and talk to the dogs they actually interviewed to arrive at this. Even though the whole concept of future blindness seems a little iffy, whenever I look at a dog now something in me says, “Yeah. It’s true.”

Humans, as we all know, are the exact and extreme opposite. We hyper-focus on everything except the present. People I’ve known through the years who dreaded their lives also happened to be the ones who lived in fear of their mortality. That final exit is a huge event in anyone’s life but obsessing over it strikes me as an insult to the quality of the life you should be living.

In my twenties I thought of death all the time, as twenty-somethings are inclined to do, because that’s when we’re most uncertain about our aspirations, our future, and what our place in the world might be—which may explain why Goth and other cultures fixate on a dark demise. I really connected with that mindset in my youth but, looking back now, it occurs to me that when my life was actually going well and was full of promise, enthusiasm and opportunity, I never gave death much consideration.

It’s kind of funny how, when the world is falling apart, churches fill up with prayerful masses lamenting their sorry lot in life, but when things are going our way, the glands swell, the brain freezes, and it’s caution to the wind. Reckless as it may seem, this latter tact may be the loftier goal to keep in our sights.

Life is absolutely a gift but it is also a muscle to be exercised. Dwelling on how it could all go away not only allows that muscle to atrophy, but it doesn’t show much appreciation for the gift either. However enlightened we may be, death and dying will continue to drift in and out of our consciousness. It’s in our nature to obsess like that.

While scripture promises “peace that passeth understanding”, why can it not be balanced in life with an understanding that bringeth peace? My take at this advanced stage of the game is that those who immerse themselves in the very real business of being alive will have little time left to fret about that impending dirt nap.

Both Leonardo DaVinci and Monty Python’s Michael Palin sum it all up nicely for me. DaVinci observed that, “A well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death.”

Palin remarked, “George Harrison’s passing was really sad, but it does make the afterlife seem much more attractive.”

My father is 92 this year and he is the penultimate example of the concept that the secret to dying young is to put it off for as long as possible. He is the youngest, most vital and energetic person I am ever likely to know. He has been my best example by embracing what it is that even dogs seem to get—the knack for living in the here and now and never once looking over his shoulder at what might have been.

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Brevity

 

I have an affinity for brevity.

It’s not that I’m in a hurry, but neither am I a waster of time. I very much take long, languorous pleasure in my respite and in the aroma of roses, but I equally enjoy the elegant simplicity of being brief. It is the quality of saying much with few words and it requires talent.

Example:

……………………FIRST FIG
……..“My candle burns at both ends.
………It will not last the night.
………But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends,
………It gives a lovely light.”
…………………….(Edna St. Vincent Millay)

The collective dwindling of our attention spans aside, I long for the concise, succinct remark while leaving the intellect enlightened and the spirit well fed. Short, compact and pithy—that’s how I like my literature.

Not all poetry is brief (damn those rambling Bard wannabe’s) but brevity in any form, to me, is poetry.

C’est la vie!

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Birthday Wish

When well wishers call out the popular greeting “Happy Birthday”, it seems so very common that we cannot help feeling its overuse has become a hallmark of insincerity.

I find it unfortunate that for many the phrase now carries a tone of obligation, when in fact most people want nothing more than to communicate a true and genuine gratitude that you were born. How small must be our self esteem to doubt there are those who gladly declare us a welcome and valuable part of their lives?

birthday-candleWhen we were still new, there was a wonderful novelty to birthdays. Since a kid is so easily enthused by the simplest of things, a day dedicated to an appreciation of you alone is quite the best thing imaginable.

I know more and more grown ups who, as they get on in years, insist they want no fuss, or even attention paid, at the marking of a birthday. And yet, notice how very put out these same people become if that oh-so-unimportant day is forgotten?

It’s a comical dichotomy that possesses more than a few of my friends.

When co-workers and casual acquaintances have been given a community greeting card to sign, the accompanying inscription often comes across as disingenuous. For the many years that I have been on my own, I’ve suffered the sticky ineptitude of those who toss off a quick “Happy Birthday” in the manner of an afterthought. I see the obligatory sentiment forming in the air and cringe. And then it lands with the graceless thud of obligation.

And what’s happy about being an obligation? Small wonder that we’ve become so blasé about it all.

Of late, however, I’ve been rethinking my position on this one day of the year that celebrates me. If I choose to join those who are sincere — or lacking such fans, if I decide to celebrate that I am indeed a delightful and marvelous person — then where is the harm in such good feelings? Taking a moment to appreciate one’s self is no sin. In fact I’m beginning to think it’s healthy.

I remember the light in the eyes of those distant faces in my home movies, both young and old, marveling at the dance of fire on frosting, and I am taken back to my childhood. There were many birthdays throughout the year in my house where ten of us fought and loved and lived together under one roof.

I lament just a little that we have evolved into a populace so easily dismissive of sentiment. And whether there is sincerity behind the words or not, I cannot be reminded enough what a miracle it is to be in this world and of this world.

Life, after all, is but a flicker. And then we are gone. Shouldn’t we allow ourselves to sparkle just a bit while we’re here?

Along those lines, I have set down this observation:

THE LIFE OF A BIRTHDAY CANDLE
(© 2013 by Michael J. Cahill)

A darkened room, a spark alights
A wick is set ablaze
And so begins the best of sights
On this, the best of days 

The flicker dances all aglow
Far merrier than any
Illuminating lightly so
The merriment of many 

How brief is but the tiny flame
That reaches high above
To those who’ve come to sing your name
And shower you with love 

And in your eyes it’s plain to see
The candle reaches high
As all are waiting patiently
For you to draw a sigh 

There in that breath lives well and strong
A dream with light imbued
From out that breath is born a song
That sings to be pursued 

And in that moment, fleet and deft
After the prayer is spoke
Do not believe that all that’s left
Is but a breath of smoke 

A birthday candle gladly burns
A life that shortly lives
For all the happiness it earns
Is from the joy it gives 

Snuffed out to make a wish come true
A prayer for things to be
Alive for but a precious few —
And for eternity

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