Mail Call

A frequent scene in World War II battle epics, and in some other old films as well, is mail call. All the men (at that time it was only men) flock about the postal dispenser with the hope and enthusiasm heretofore reserved for Santa Claus. In the end, some of them walk away beaming while others, having lost their hope, mope away empty-handed. Mail was their connection with family, sweethearts, and other friends, and, usually (“Dear John” letters excluded), a morale booster for someone feeling very alone.

I have a friend who, though I don't think he poses any danger to others, is incarcerated for a violation of the criminal code. I correspond with him and I imagine him to be equally desirous of those communications. Letters are his primary connection with the outside world. And there are others like him. Mail is their link with what they remember, and a letter provides some evidence that they are still part of society, even if other privileges are withheld.

There was a time when the letter was treasured, and not something to be mindlessly tossed into the trash. There was a time when people would wait with great anticipation for the arrival of the mail carrier. And although that may have been possible several times a day, there may have been no mail delivered to them for days on end. Magazines were a rarity and bulk-mail hadn't yet become the advertising instrument it is today. Mail was important. There was no junk mail.

Mail is ageless. Whether by voice, written message, smoke, or some other means, people have always felt the need to communicate. Before nations developed postal services, messages were often transported by travelers who were asked to carry notes from one place to another, often to people they didn't know. In ancient Rome Augustus established a courier service for transmission of messages and taxes, but it was much later that national services were established with availability to the public. The first American Post Office was created in 1775, when the Continental Congress appointed Benjamin Franklin as Postmaster General. Both before and subsequently, carriages and horseback riders carried mail, and we've moved on from there – in some places in an organized manner since the sixteenth or seventeenth century. With the nineteenth century (1840) came the first postage stamp, and all the rest is philately.

When I was young (sorry to subject you to this), although we paid our taxes and other bills using the mails, we wrote letters. I learned how to type in elementary school, but when I wrote a letter, I wrote it. (If what arrived was typed it was from someone who could afford a typist, and it was usually a bill.) Every real letter was unique. It was from someone and it was to someone. And it carried unique information of interest to the recipient. Its arrival was often awaited impatiently, and the carrier was often the most important person (apart from family) we saw all day. And reading the letter was one of the highlights of the day.

That letter was handwritten, and often covered several pages. There was so much to say. (We had telephones, but they were expensive to use, and if the call was “long distance” it could be difficult. That was especially the case if it was an “overseas” call and had to be scheduled.) It took a long time to write and a long time to read.

But times change, and so do letters. Duplicating machines made it possible to send out multiple copies of the same letter. Like Christmas letters. The uniqueness was lost but a lot of time was saved. In addition, as telephones improved it became possible to engage in personal dialogue without having to learn to write. Telephones soon earned the love of their users, especially teen-agers who spent inordinate amounts of time on them.

That, too, has changed. What were once standard and modern telephones are now “land lines” and they're disappearing. Along with telephone booths. The telephone is in your pocket or purse or somewhere else on your body. You're carrying it with you and talking as you walk (or drive). It's distracting for you and annoying for everyone around you, but they probably have their own devices anyway, so you won't feel sorry if they're annoyed by you.

Worse. Letters have disappeared. The mail is all junk, and the communication is the product of people's thumbs. It's texting, and neither ability in spelling nor grammar is required. Nor any sound ideas. Longer thoughts come on Facebook or some equivalent, and they tend to be short and confused. No one has time for a real letter, only some social media imitation. 

Much more intelligent letters were ones I got recently from my two year old grandson: lkjdahoieuy rorivn. He wanted to write some letters on his mother's computer. Not long and not handwritten, but meant for me and me alone. From a mail call powered by his enthusiasm I have a message which brings me hope.

Who needs progress?

December 5, 2016