I know you have Science class in here and I hope it’s ok to write you, but I think you’re really cute. Mr. Carr is in a good mood today, I think he might have had a date with Mrs. Cart this weekend. Ha ha! Hope to see you in the hallway again. I also just realized we went to pre-school together and I have a picture of you. If you write me back just leave it here for me.
Bye.

I remember writing a note to Alan Corman in 7th grade. I left the note for him in my science lab drawer because I knew he sat at the same table. He wasn’t interested. Most the boys I had crushes on back then weren’t interested. When I moved to Richmond, I had the biggest crush of my life that lasted from eight grade through high school. I also wrote him a note commenting on his beauty and skateboarding skills. That also was a failed attempt at written confessions of love.

From 8th grade until the end of high school, notes were the highlights of my day. I never knew when I was going to get one or who it would be from. My girlfriends mostly exchanged with me all day and it was easy to scribe the bubble letters of yore while in Ms. Pilkington’s English class. I would occasionally get notes from my guy friends as well, usually with Misfits, Metallica, Iron Maiden, or skateboarding graffiti adorning them. I cannot forget the actual folding of the notes, you had to do the one with the “tab” that you would pull out to open it and people actually wrote the word “PULL” on it. Sometimes they would get elaborate and show up as triangles or origami. Notes would get passed in the hallway between periods, they were in my locker when I changed books, and sometimes you’d find them mysteriously in your backpack. I remember Freshmen year, sitting in Mr. Wilt’s World Studies class and exchanging notes with Meredith Snellings consisting only of lyrics from The Smiths, and I remember the notes I’d get from my friend Sara who had beautiful penmanship and always wrote incredibly concise and intellectual letters on music or a guy or the punk rock show we went to the past weekend. It was also where you penned your scandalous gossip:

What were Lindsey and MaryBeth doing at the show?! Those girls are such harlots trying to get with the guys in our scene. Oh and did you know that Nicki Owen is pregnant! I guess she won’t be on the cheerleading squad for much longer. I saw her crying in the bathroom. See you at lunch!

Yes we used the word “harlots” because it sounded better than “slut”. We also had NOTEbooks which were passed around between a group of friends. Each period a different girl would write and then pass it on the next. The first time a boy said he loved me was on a note, claiming I was the raddest girl at school. Swoon. Then he wrote me a letter two weeks later breaking up with me and then I wrote a letter to him telling him to fuck off. Notes were such a huge part of how we communicated back then and it was exciting if you got a note handed to you. Notes were the way to confess untold secrets, to profess love, and to tell your best friend she was being an asshole at lunch trying to be too cool. You’d discuss the new CD you bought over the weekend, write poetry, or plan out secret parties. It would come on loose leaf, colored or sometimes sketch book paper, but always with doodles or lots of hearts and signed with a LYLAS (Love ya like a sis) or Later Sk8ter or a See Ya . It was special because you knew they were taking time out of their day to put pen to paper.

So now, we have email, text, and video chatting, and to be honest when email came out I treated it with as much enthusiasm as I did getting notes. In the beginning, I’d light up with joy looking at my inbox. The emails I receive currently, consist of telling me what to do, what to buy, how to buy it, what bills to pay, when to go to things, where to get the best deal, and so forth. I haven’t received a proper personal email in almost…6 years. Sure, I’ve received “Likes”, Emojis, texts pages long, but none of that written communication excites me, it’s just become commonplace and sometimes the only time you receive anything worth reading is to tell you that you’re being a certain way. It’s become a place where people can abbreviate feelings and sentiments, a text can have some pretty involved meaning, but something about it lingering there and the urge to have to answer it right away takes away from the significance, to me. Not even through Facebook Messenger do I receive a lot of correspondence. It’s all very direct and with serious need. It’s the place you contact people you don’t have email addresses for. I still find it oddly strange to announce the death and births and marriages online. There’s something impersonal about it, it lacks the tangibility of the sentiments. And yes, Facebook has replaced the folded papers of youth, but what are people actually saying on your wall? “HBD”? “I saw that!” “I was at that show!” Pruned and lackluster remarks.

When I lived in New York, each restaurant I dined in had postcards. I loved that. I used to sit and eat and actually write out a postcard to people and send it on the way home. I think we all still feel something when we get home and there is a card or a letter for us in the mail. The feel of it alone to tear open an envelope handwritten and addressed to you. When I was internet dating, I made it part of my criteria for them to have to correspond with me in some pen to parchment form. Seems odd to some, but I found it entertaining, the notes I’d get or the photo of notes I’d get if they were remote. The ones who actually carried it out were the ones I gave my time to, you can only get so many horrid dick pics in a day. I’d get post it notes:

Here lies my favorite thing to eat at lunch. Doesn’t it look delicious?

Then there was an arrow drawn to the sandwich.

I’d leave notes like this on my way out of Mister’s apartment and he told me he loved waking up to them, but he would rather wake up to me instead, (insert gagging here). Sweet right?

Thank you so much for the wonderful evening. Coffee is ready and I hope to see you later.

My ex husband and I were legendary for the notes he would leave each other, especially like when he would leave early for a tour:

I’m going to miss you so much baby. Have a great day! I love you!

or when I used to come by his apartment when we were dating and he wasn’t there:

Hi! I came by to say hello and see if you wanted to get something to eat. I listened to that Miles Davis CD you leant me and it was good! I’ll be around later if you want to hang.

to after 5 years of marriage, me leaving these types of notes:

Can you please take out the fucking trash and put the dishes away!

I think the art of letter writing has gone out with the art of conversation. I’m a sentimental fool, I have letters from decades ago that I keep in a box because one day I had hoped to share it with my kids and grandkids as a kind of historical recollection of the person I was or written proof of words of love that were volleyed back and forth between misters. To me, there is still something magical about receiving a letter. It’s the same feeling you get when you open a book, you know?

I decided that this year I would get back into letter writing or at least postcard writing. I was in Stella’s for lunch the other day and they had one in the checkbook, so I wrote a note to a friend of mine in Richmond. Seems silly, but I know when he got it he was thrilled.

Hi there! I’m sitting at Stella’s and was thinking about that place we used to go to in New York when you came to visit. OMG, I miss that place. This red wine I’m drinking right now is freakin’ delicious. How are you? We haven’t seen each other in ages, we should hang sometime soon. I hope all is well and I just wanted to send a hello and how are you. Tell Jamie hello for me!
Ciao,
J

Who knows, maybe it will be reciprocated and I will come home to something other than what I owe someone or 20% off at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Mr. Spectacular started collecting nice pens and inks when we stopped seeing each other, I will bet anything he’s never written one love letter with them. Sometimes it’s nice looking at the pen strokes and not having the immediate urge to reply back, but when you do, it will take time and effort. We have gone back to collecting records, making cassette tapes, and going to barber shops, so why not delve into the lost art of writing. You remember that thing you do with a pen, right? If you want to really mess with someone, write one in cursive and send it to a millenial. They will think it’s some coded instruction. But, seriously, how much would you make someone’s day by simply sending a postcard. Have fun!