Happiness is a Handwritten Letter

and do you know how many cool stamps there are???

Happiness is a handwritten letter…these are from pen pal, Sydnie! I adore them.

I’m reading a children’s book about Thoreau right now. I wasn’t even through the introduction before I was longing for the simplicity he found by a pond.

Contrary to what I used to imagine, Thoreau wasn’t a hermit. While living at Walden Pond by himself, he often visited town and spoke regularly to people. He also wasn’t idle. Did you know he had a SEVEN MILE crop of beans?

His life at Walden lasted for only two years, two months, and two days, and yet those two years of focused intention changed the entire world. What he mostly did (when not harvesting all of those beans) was work, think, and write.

His writings were so powerful and so deep and so true that they resonated all over the world. His writings on civil disobedience inspired the overthrow of British rule in India and the civil rights movement in America. All because a man had the wisdom and discipline and courage to give up the world just for a little bit so he could work, and think, and write.

I’m romanticizing this life and seven miles of beans, I know. I once had five measly plants of beans I could barely pay attention to. And gardening in New Hampshire with black flies is brutal. Black flies aside, isn’t there something appealing to dream about digging in dirt, eating off the land, trading beans for flour, and having zero notifications dinging in the pocket?

To state the obvious: Thoreau didn’t have a phone. He had the same hours we do but wasn’t checking a device a zillion times a day, taking selfies, editing his face, posting, waiting for likes and comments and validation that doesn’t last half a second. Typing it out like that makes it all so ridiculous. What are we doing with our time?

Reading Thoreau culminated with reading Jonathan Haidt’s (a social psychologist and professor in the Business and Society Program at New York University’s Stern School of Business)

After Babel

report on teen girls and social media use.

After sending it to my oldest daughter (who has sworn off social media and reports much better mental health), wrote back: “that’s terrifying.”

You’ve likely seen the recent headlines regarding girls and record levels of sadness (The New York Times and NPR). I’m pasting a tiny portion of Haidt’s research here:

7. Conclusion: Social Media Is a Major Cause of Mental Illness in Girls, Not Just a Tiny Correlate

There is one giant, obvious, international, and gendered cause: Social media. Instagram was founded in 2010. The iPhone 4 was released then too—the first smartphone with a front-facing camera. In 2012 Facebook bought Instagram, and that’s the year that its user base exploded. By 2015, it was becoming normal for 12-year-old girls to spend hours each day taking selfies, editing selfies, and posting them for friends, enemies, and strangers to comment on, while also spending hours each day scrolling through photos of other girls and fabulously wealthy female celebrities with (seemingly) vastly superior bodies and lives. The hours girls spent each day on Instagram were taken from sleep, exercise, and time with friends and family. What did we think would happen to them?

What did we think would happen to them?

It’s a dagger to my heart. I have three daughters; two of them are still teens. What are we doing???

My brother-in-law says that one day he hopes we view social media like we now view tobacco. Because smoking is BAD FOR YOU. The conclusions on social media and girls, in particularly, appear just as deadly.

What does that have to do with the handwritten letter? Well, I think it’s related to what Thoreau did when he decided to get really intentional with his life.

It takes courage to be counter-culture. It’s slowing down so you have the time, space, and energy to see and enjoy the small and simpler things. Which are really the big things.

The Handwritten Letter

I’ve always been drawn to the creativity of letters. The different sizes of papers, inks, designs, drawings, stickers, envelopes, and stamps one can use. In middle school I received a calligraphy set. It had five different colors of ink that I could switch out. What fun to imagine I was some sort of medieval damsel writing her last letter - if only I had had a wax seal (maybe I could get one now?)

Thankfully, 13-year-old me did NOT have a phone because I KNOW I would have been ALL OVER Debbie Gibson Tik Tok dance challenges (I can see it now and I shudder) - how would I have found the time to write letters?!?! No, it was the boredom and swaths of free time that fed my creativity.

In college I dreamed of opening a stationary store with my art major bestie (with an adjoining Taco Bell 😂). When my friends and roommates and missionaries left for the summer or longer stretches of time, how would we LIVE WITHOUT EACH OTHER?

We didn’t have cell phones for texting or Snap Chatting. Our family homes had phones that were wired onto walls with curly-cue cords that only went five feet so you rarely had privacy - and long distance calls increased your parent’s phone bill. We did not have to live without each other though because we had paper and envelopes and stamps - and we used them.

I wrote so many letters during those years, to girlfriends and boyfriends, sometimes sprayed with perfume or a lipsticked-imprint of my lips, oh my. We used to make our own envelopes out of ripped out magazine pictures. I still have many of them, and if I wasn’t feeling lazy I’d go dig through the garage bins and find some to show you.

We can’t turn back time, I know. Phones and social media aren’t going away. I’ll admit to being a big-time texting queen. But I’d like to give a plug to this lovely, antiquated art form.

During the Covid years, fancying myself a blooming Georgia O’Keeffe, I bought bunches of blank watercolor cards and envelopes and postcards. I began painting and sending these postcards to my nieces and nephews. And it didn’t matter if I thought my paintings were uh-hm, not Georgia O’Keeffe, because sending was fun and my recipients were thrilled to get mail!

Lest you’re already freaking out because now I’ve made it more complicated, FORGET THE PAINTING part. I’ll Georgia O’Keeffe on my own time.

The point is to write something by hand to someone you love. That’s it.

A handwritten note is simple and doesn’t need to take much time, and yet it does take time, and there are enough little steps that it often feels hard. So this is what you’re going to do.

1. Set up one area where you keep your postcards, paper, envelopes and stamps

2. Write the note

3. Find the address (mine are all on my…phone)

4. Put the stamp on

5. Put envelope or postcard in the mailbox

6. FEEL JOY! (really, what a dopamine boost)

This much I can guarantee: you will feel joy putting your letter in the mailbox. Your recipient will be so tickled that you may even get a response. It’s one big delightful virtuous cycle.

My husband says I’m obsessed with mail. True. I anticipate treasures every time I open the little mailbox door. You likely know the feeling of walking to the mailbox, too, and finding your name on an envelope - WHAT JOY, WHAT BLISS. How good it feels to know someone thought about you. Someone took the time to write out your name, find your address, buy a stamp, and put it in the mail.

Is that not an act of love?

The handwritten letter has become a rare gift, hasn’t it?

I believe it falls into Mother Theresa’s “do small things with great love” advice for a happier, more meaningful life. And when you do small things with great love, you start to feel great love back. Couldn’t the world use a little more of that?

These are images from this past week (a very good handwritten week):

This past week was full of little sparks of handwritten joy!

Navigating from top left: postcards from my niece, my daughter’s art desk where she’s designing her own greeting cards, a surprise watercolor from Tjasa Owen (I only know her from interacting on Instagram - SO NICE), and STAMPS!

I always think stamps say something about the sender. The postal worker sold me the dog and cat stamps after she observed the packages I was sending had teeth marks on them (ARTIE).

Q: what if I have terrible handwriting?

A: I’m not saying you can’t type it. Of course you can. There are no rules here.

For Christmas, my husband got me a typewriter. If I ever change the ribbon, I will be sending TYPED letters. Does that not sound like joy?

In conclusion, I think the beauty of the handwritten note is this: you are worth taking time for.

I may not ever have the gumption to sell all of my possessions and plant a seven-mile crop of beans to think and write, but I’m continually reckoning with my use of social media and phone. And I do plan on writing more letters.

I’d like to extend the same invitation to you.

Do you know someone who needs a handwritten note? Particularly a child? I would like to write them one. Maybe I will use my typewriter. Leave a comment OR hit reply with the address - I’m serious!

Happiness is a hand written letter and I give it five stars.

❤️ Amy

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Good News and Story Links

• Perhaps?: add THE MCNIFFICENTS to your Goodreads - thank you!

• ICYMI: Let Joy Find You, Such a great read

• A McNifficent Story Map with every pre-order: Here and Here

• What I’m Reading Right Now: The Secret Battle of Evan Pao

• Help, I have a Lays Wavy potato chip addiction. Just thought you should know.

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Social Media is a Major Cause of the Mental Illness Epidemic in Teen Girls. Here’s the Evidence.