Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
You.
You who?
You who, take a look at what a dork you were as a teenager!
Have you ever received a Box of Life from your parents? You know, the box they’ve been storing in their garage for the past two or three decades.
I got mine two weeks ago. It’s Box #3. Boxes 1 and 2, which I got ages ago, contained early childhood to elementary school: report cards, spelling bee awards, the story I wrote about Grandma and the one Bucky Mulvaney wrote about his horses. Box #3 holds within its dusty, greasy cardboard walls my inner life from ages 13 to 18.
It has Peanuts and those big-headed doll-kids from Betsy Clark and Hallmark. Loopy handwriting. Endless talk of which boys are cute and who likes who and how we weren’t invited to the prom (again). Sorry so sloppy and Always a friend.
You see, my Box of Life was filled with letters I received in junior high and high school. Not two or three or even ten letters. Inside the box, there were (to use an over-used term from that time in my life) really a lotta letters!
Letters from cousins Suzanne and Kathy in Long Beach, from Lisa who moved to (yuck) Lubbock, from Andrea and Thecla, both of whom moved less than 20 miles away. Even my two best friends, Lori and Laurie, mailed me letters from down the street!
Right now I’m trying to figure out what to do with all these letters. I could donate them to a library, the way presidents and other important people do. Decades from now, some graduate student will come across this piece of Americana that Laurie wrote me from Social Studies class:
Are you going to dress up on Friday in your peddle pushers? They’re very, very foxy! Pinhead will find them amusing! (noy) I wonder if Pinhead will dress up? He doesn’t have any hair to slick back but he does have high water pants. Haaaaa! (like a crow) Oh Boy! Mr. Cook is soooo foxy! Boy, his wife must be madly in love with his cowboy boots and high waters.
I’ve also considered writing a screenplay. In one scene, I am sitting on my pink-and-white bedspread with Laurie, reading to her this snippet from Thecla, who recently moved one town over. Our hands fly to our mouths over how loose and fast Thecla has become, and we walk out of the room whispering that we really need to start testing out new methods for getting the guys:
The problem is most of the foxes are older guys who hang out in the bars. I’m only 16 and don’t look 21 so we just stand in front of the door and every time someone comes out or goes in we take a look in with our tongues hanging out. Not really! But the foxes are really in the bars.
So far my most plausible idea is to use the letters as material — quotable quotes — for red Ravine. You know, for those days when I have nothing more interesting to post; no salient information for writers or artists, not even some fascinating tidbit about the turkeys or Baby.
Excerpts from the letters might become quasi-writing prompts in and of themselves. Or maybe, like this gem from Lisa, recollections of a time when letter-writing was what teenage girls did instead of email or texting, when we used P.S. and P.S.S. as if they were going out of style (they were), and when we really didn’t have much to talk about except the weather:
I bought $20 of clothes. Pants and 2 shirts. I wore shorts and short sleeves all day, and its in the middle of Jan. Do ya’ll still have snow? If so send me some O.K.
I’ve often wondered what happened to all of my girlhood letters. Friends and I exchanged letters frequently, as well as a cousin who “lived a whole hour away!” (as if that was an exotic place to live compared to where I was living).
Then there was the pen-pal period, with one pen-pal in England and one in Korea.
I would imagine they got lost when my parents basement was flooded, but I’m not sure.
This was fun to read, Ybonesy. Brought back some good memories. I’m looking forward to seeing how you use the excerpts.
P.S. I still use P.S.
P.P.S. And this. 🙂
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Thank the deity/non-deity of your choice, I’m the family packrat. I’m the one who’s done the saving, so my mom can’t someday say “Hey! Look what I’ve found!” then test that theory about dying from embarrassment.
Which reminds me: I need to resume Project Burn…
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I never had a pen-pal and always wanted one! I would have been a great pen-pal, being as how I had a whole host of scented and other types of stationary to choose from. My goodness…if letters to cousins and friends who you know are as boring as my letters were, I wonder what kind of things pen-pals talk about.
Hey, sam…before you do Project Burn, you ought to scan and post some of your memorabilia on your blog. I’d love to test your embarrassment theory for you ; – ).
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what a great thing to receive! I too have a big box of life, though over the past few years I’ve whittled it down a bit. I threw out some of the letters that no longer meant anything to me, and kept the funny and meaningful ones. There were notes that I passed in class, starting from 6th grade on! Anyway, I recognize myself in your letter snippets. Thanks for sharing them.
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I wish I had the notes I passed in class. I was a big note-passer. I got into so much trouble for passing a note saying what an Ugly Dude Mr. Garcia was. I had been one of his pets, up until he intercepted the note. I think he was genuinely hurt.
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Great read. Those “Holly Hobbies” did scare me though…
I guess my friend’s and I were even strange back then because we didn’t pass “boy notes”. We passed very “serious” dark poetry with words like “As I sit decadent in my jeans”…. 😉
PS 🙂
Long Beach, CA?
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Holly Hobbies — *that’s* what they’re called! I googled Betsy Clark and couldn’t find the name for the actual creatures. They are sort of bizarre looking. We thought they were adorable, though.
Ah, you were one of the artsy students, I can tell. See, I was a dork. I didn’t really belong to a group until I aligned with the Heads, and that was like the worst group to align with. Potheads.
Yeah, Long Beach, CA. That’s where my cuzins lived.
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What memories this brings back! Everything Holly Hobbie. Do you know Holly Hobbies today look nothing like how they did when we were young? Look them up.
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Oh, my gosh, the Holly Hobbies. I was going through an old box of journals a few weeks ago, and I think I ran into one with a Holly Hobbie on the front. And now I’m wondering if that was on one of Mom’s old address books instead (?). Maybe I’ll ask her.
Fun, post, ybonesy. I have a few Life Boxes hanging around. I’ve just started to go through them. One is old memorabilia. And there are a few other boxes of just letters that I need to go through. It’s funny the things we save or our parents save about us.
I was a huge note passer in early Junior High. We’d slip them to each other in the hallways between classes. Elaborate designs and artsy drawings on those things. I used to do them in Mr. Herman’s science class. It was a tiered room and most days I sat in the back, hidden by giant globes, Bunsen burners, and beakers. 8)
You know what’s interesting is that two of my most steadfast note passers were boys. Steve W. and Steve A. Steve A. was a hall monitor so we got away with a lot. I had a crush on Steve W. I wonder what happened to him? He was cute.
All this reminds me, remember Slam Books and Cootie Catchers? Or am I just to ancient?
P.S. Love the Woodstock envelope
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I don’t think my parents have a “box of life” stored away in our garage. Throughout my adult life, what they have given me in sporadic doses are stories of my childhood, ones that I’ve lost in my muddled memory caused by trauma. They often mention these in my presence but to other people, which I always find both endearing and irritating.
But come to think of it, my mother may have a box of letters I’ve written to her tucked away somewhere. When I was younger, I found that I couldn’t talk to her about my feelings, especially when I’m bothered or hurt. Always, the thought of verbalizing these left me choked up or in tears. I resorted to writing her notes or letters in the hope of enlightening her without fear of getting embarrassed or hurt even further. I don’t think she’ll hand these letters to me any day soon. In fact, I know I’ll find them only after she’s gone, and I’m sure reading them then will be quite painful.
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Hi Liz, what a nice surprise to hear from you!
Amazing, the body’s capacity for self-preservation during times of trauma, although often one is left with muddled memory. I have very little memory of a particular year that had certain traumas.
I think it’s interesting that you found a voice through your letter writing to your mother. It makes me wonder, which comes first — letter writing because you are a writer, or becoming a writer in the process of finding a voice through letter-writing.
My dad wrote letters to my mom in an attempt to deal with hurtful relationship issues. I have two or three of them. Unfortunately, they didn’t change her behavior (he pleaded with her to stop playing poker), but it allowed him to express himself and his concerns.
It does sound like those letters will be painful once you get them. A kind of re-living the times. I wouldn’t be surprised if you someday find a huge Box of Life. Parents (myself included, now that I’m one) have a hard time parting with anything belonging to their kids.
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OMG, Barbara…I looked up Holly Hobbies. You’re right. They are nothing like those giant-headed dolls. Here’s the link:
http://www.hollyhobbie.com/HollyHobbie/index.jsp
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QM, artful use of P.S. 8)
I DO remember cootie catchers. My girls make them now, so they haven’t gone out of style. I don’t know what Slam Books are. Please enlighten.
Mr. Herman. A good science teacher name! I can only remember Mr. D’Nello, who gave me a D for whistling in class. That was high school Chemistry.
Makes you wonder if there are adults out there who weren’t note passers in junior high. One of those universal traits. We should ask Rob Wilder if kids still pass notes like mad.
OK, TTFN…
p.s., write back soon…
p.s.s., later on, man!
p.s.s.s., (I took those from one of my letters)
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Oh my god, the most horrifying thing is that I think I had ALL of the same cutesy-looking stationery you had, ybonesy.
I am often struck by how many of the objects from our two childhoods were the same ones. We are exactly the same age, and even though we grew up in utterly different places and cultures, certain peculiar American touchstones seem to have cut through different sub-cultures.
That Woodstock inner envelope flap — and the sunny yellow stationery — really catapulted me back!
I am sometimes relieved that my parents have moved just enough times to have purged some of the more embarrassing evidence of my childhood. Still, I also find myself wishing that I could peek back into that stuff to understand more about the conditions that created my mind as it is now.
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How funny…I didn’t realize we were the same age. Did you and your friends used to give Holly Hobbie or Peanuts little ceramic boxes (round or heart-shaped)? Or the stationery. (I just realized I’ve been spelling that word wrong.)
We also gave each other incense burners and incense. And little blown glass figurines. We all loved certain things. I guess what this has helped me with is understanding Dee a bit more. She’ll want a certain thing because all her friends have it. I want to say, Be an individual! Silly me! I was doing exactly what everyone else was doing, and it wasn’t so much about following the crowd as I recalled it. It’s just what we naturally seemed to love.
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ybonesy, to the best of my recollection, Slam Books are where you ask questions (sometimes personal about other people) at the top of ruled notebook pages. To participate, you sign in on the very first page with a number beside your name. Then you go through the Slam Book and answer all the questions (using your number only, not your name). When the book gets to you, you answer the questions, too, and then get to see how others responded to questions about you (sometimes quite trying). If you saw a negative response, you would frantically page back to the first page to see whose name was beside that number.
They were basically ways to keep the different junior high strata in their places. The most popular kids remained so. The least, well, I don’t think they liked doing the Slam Books too much. After a while, I just stopped doing them. I seem to remember them most around 7th grade.
BTW, I am a closet Peanuts lover. I recently watched a documentary (on where else, the Documentary Channel) about Charles Schulz. Two of his kids participated and it talked a lot about his relationship to his family and first wife, juxtaposed with what went into his comic strips. According to them, he kind of lived out a lot of his marital angst through his comic strips. Quite interesting.
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We did slam books when I was in school. I guess they never go away !
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No wonder they’re called Slam Books. They sound brutal.
Not something I ever heard of or saw. I guess they probably fulfilled that deep desire all teens have to know what others think of you.
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I loved this post ,as I am also of the Holly Hobbie age. Strawberry Shortcake came later & I must admit that I liked her much better. As for slam books, they sound way too cruel for me. I did write & pass notes in class. One, to my dismay was intercepted by the teacher & and posted on a bulletin board for all to read! After that moment I actually ate & swallowed them (the notes that is) afterwards! I have a box of memories that my my Mother was wise enough to save for me. Inside are locks of hair,etc. ,and I guess my favorite, a pencil drawing of Jesus Christ on parchment paper with a caption that reads “You guys can wear your hair as long as you want. Just tell them I said so!” For me it meant ,” Be yourself, be good & all that is good that you give will return to you. Put yourself in the next persons shoes. Everyone has somone who loves them! Sometimes I think we take ourselves too seriously. This time of year is a time of reflection. I am not a person of religious faith. I am however, a person of faith in humanity. I am convinced that two things will set your heart free. Honesty & truth. D
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I love the notion of that pencil drawing of Jesus and the caption. Did you draw him? I think that message was about the best one you could have at that time in your life. (Any time in your life, perhaps??)
I remember Strawberry Shortcake just missing my group. I think my niece, who was six years younger than me, having Strawberry Shortcake things.
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YB, I did not do the pencil drawing, but it did mean more to me than the length of a mans hair! There are way too many superficial folks out there. They are the true losers for me. Look within & you might just be surprised at what you find! Thank you & QM for a delightful site to visit! I do so everyday! D
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yb, the Slam books also had positive in them, too. They were definitely both. Some of the questions were about your favorite bands, color, hairstyle, etc. You know, typical Junior High banter. I wonder if they are an East Coast thing? I’ll have to ask some of my friends in the Midwest if they remember them.
Mom, yes, they’re still around. I didn’t know they were around in your day, too! (Although that wasn’t all that long ago.)
alittlediddy, having a note posted like that for all to read can be humiliating. (It reminds me of today’s version of sending a personal email to all the wrong people in your address book!) Did you really actually eat and swallow your notes after that? (I’m glad you visit every day! I look forward to it!)
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I didn’t have that many friends at that particular stage. We didn’t do the Holly Hobbies, though others did.
We did give each other the tiny blown glass figurines and the stationery for letters and notes.
And we were WAAAAYYYYYYY into sealing our notes and letters with sealing wax. I was frighteningly into sealing wax on my notes. I must have melted quarts and quarts of metallic sealing wax onto the envelope flaps of my letters so I could use one of my stamper thingies on them. The post office must have hated me whenever I mailed something.
For me, the incense burning was a private thing, to use with my black light on my neon-colored posters at night in my room.
This must have made a very peculiar fashion statement for the La Cavas across the street, who had a front door light at Christmas time that cycled through the primary colors all night long.
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Elizabeth, I’m chuckling reading your comment. And you had a black light? I’m trying to picture it. 8) I was into my sealing waxes, too. Every color. They still sell it in art supply stores (I have a few bars of purple, gold, and red). I wonder if you can still use it on letters these days. Or if they charge you extra postage.
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Sealing waxes! My sister especially liked them, but so did I. I’m amazed at how many things we had around letter-writing. We had all the accoutrements — stationery (scented and un), stickers, sealing waxes. I don’t remember pens being a big deal, though.
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QM, I am quite certain that one note was the only one I actually swallowed! However, the very first camera cell phone that I got, I took a fetching photo of Abbey (our yellow lab). She was stretched out, asleep in front of an inviting fire in our fire place. I even gave it a title “Dreaming of you!” I sent it off to my husband. Oops! The photo was delivered, but not to my husband. I was just one number off. D
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LOL. 8) Wonder who the lucky person was, D?
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QM, I was about to sign off & saw your reply. I have many photos of my Grandmother (Her name. was Elizabeth. Most folks called her Lizzy) She was a lover of nature. She wore the red & black Woolrich pants in the winter & it was during a time when a woman never wore pants. Very unladylike, but she also had a soft side. I loved her so much & I truly hope that I am much like her. I will certainly share her photos with you. I don’t know if you noticed the “In the garden” print hanging on the guest room wall. Funny, but her favorite Spiritual song was “I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses…” My grandparents loved to travel & YB, one of their favorite places to visit was New Mexico! They traveled there quite often.D
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This gives me a chuckle, particularly the part about donating the historical letters to the library. And loved the Woodstock envelope!
Woodstock rocks.
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amuirin, I love Woodstock, too. He’s kind of Zen like Pooh or Bobby on King Of The Hill. 8)
sam, I was rereading the comments and your Project Burn reminds me of a friend who moved a few years ago and burned all of her journals. Thus far, I haven’t been able to do that. I want to reread them first. Maybe they’ll hit the fire after my first book is done.
Did you know Willa Cather asked that her partner burn all her letters after she died. And she did.
D. I did notice the “In the garden” print hanging on the guest room wall when I was there. Your grandmother sounds like a soul ahead of her time. I bet her good energy fills that room. How cool that your grandparents liked to go to New Mexico. Did they ever bring anything back from there? Everything is connected.
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Yes, QM, Woodstock is zen like Eyore ; – ). Is that how to spell his name?
I have a strong visual of your grandmother, alittleditty, with her Woolrich pants and love for NM. She sounds down to earth.
QM, I had the same reaction upon reading Sam’s Project Burn comment. I don’t think I could burn my old letters. I’d always lament that there was something I could have gleaned from them for my writing.
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The Anthropologist’s Tale
( Do you all recognise that – an English person would pick up the reference to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales immediately.)
Thank goodness I have the soul of an anthropologist, though it’s one of those life paths I could have gone down but didn’t…
Strange, reading 31 episodes of girlhood in America – and your approximate ages are totally safe from me – I have no idea what era Holly Hobbies are from, though I do vaguely remember having heard of their existence.
Strange, but not disagreeable, and in fact at times quite charming.
A year or so I went to see a medium and she said, amongst other things, ‘you are interested in everything.’ I was a bit taken aback at the time, but on thinking about it, I realised that she was more or less right. I suppose you could say that, being a student of the psyche, everything is relevant. How people feel, what they do, what they remember, how they relate to their past…
The talk of memorabilia brought up something altogether sadder from my own life. In the late eighties, I had an extremely traumatic relationship with a very damaged woman who was very abusive in many ways. I had left England and was living on the continent (Europe) with her. I had taken over a couple of tea-chests-worth of possessions, which was more or less what remained of the contents of the flat I had had in London. On this particular, rather desperate day, I found myself wanting to take flight and disappear. I had a kind of self-protective reflex, which was to take two rucksacks full of books to the local rubbish dump and jettison them. I felt that I wanted to cut the extraneous clutter out of my existence to the point where I could put everything I owned on my back and be gone – returning to the state in which I had existed as a hippie during my early adulthood.
This is too long already, but I ‘inherited’ only one or two bits and pieces from my parents’ flat. However, a story written by my dad recalling his early life appeared via my sister recently, and that was a very curious and quite moving experience.
In general, I’m always mindful of the old adage: there are no pockets in a shroud. I was thinking about that a while ago and I had a light-bulb moment, expressing it to myself for the first time in this way: when we leave this Earth, what we take into the beyond is not what we have, but what we are. Therefore, in this perspective, what we can add to what we are becomes the most significant single issue in this Earth walk.
Ooops – didn’t know I was heading there. QM and Yb – this is me doing my 15 minute writing practice – or something like.
Thanks Yb for a great starter – 31 comments speaks for itself (32 now)
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I’m thrilled you did this writing practice. As I read it, a lightbulb went off — He’s doing writing practice.
You own very little from the past — the letters, if you had any, I take were left behind when you fled the abusive relationship? Ah, but thank goodness for the story from your father. I have one, too. I read it sobbing. It’s almost unbearable to think of my father as a child going through that much pain. I don’t know why.
I love the past, old people, their stories. We dilute with each passing day something that can never be understood, and maybe it’s in the spirit of wanting to stop the train that I have begun to cling. I’m relatively clean, though, not a hoarder or a packrat. I lived in Spain in my mid-20s and never took a photo, hardly brought anything back except my words. Although I hate to let go of those.
You express your philosophy well, and I love that you expressed it here again for us to ponder.
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stranger, I enjoyed your practice. Your line – you are interested in everything – reminds me of a friend of mine who is the same way. She is not only interested in everything, but excellent in nearly everything she attempts.
She views it also as a blessing and a curse – she can never decide where to put her energy and has a hard time making choices. She was also told by an astrologer that this would be her path – choosing from the many. It made me more thankful for my limited gifts. 8)
Thanks for writing. Here is some RECALL:
Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales
***the soul of an anthropologist***
31 episodes of girlhood in America
approximate ages are totally safe from me
Holly Hobbies
Strange, but not disagreeable
charming
you are interested in everything
student of the psyche
everything is relevant
traumatic relationship with a very damaged woman
England
living on the continent (Europe) with her
couple of tea-chests-worth of possessions
contents of the flat I had had in London
desperate day
wanting to take flight and disappear
two rucksacks full of books to the local rubbish dump and jettison them
***cut the extraneous clutter out of my existence***
everything I owned on my back and be gone
hippie
early adulthood
one or two bits and pieces from my parents’ flat
***a story written by my dad recalling his early life***
via my sister
curious and quite moving
***there are no pockets in a shroud***
when we leave this Earth, what we take into the beyond is not what we have, but what we are
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Yb, QM I am invariably touched by your generosity – I feel that you always make the effort to COMMUNICATE. I want to scream in huge capitals
ALL BLOGGERS PLEASE TAKE NOTE!!!!!!!!!!:-
You may have the most beautiful thoughts and feelings about what she/he wrote, but if you don’t put them down, how much did you give in return for what you got? Are you happy for me to come to your blog, notch up 1 more in your views counter, and vanish? Are you blogging for a stat, or for human contact and enrichment?
QM: I am going to fall head first into your trap – curiosity killed the cat, of course: your RECALL was very impressive – what is a recall and for what purpose do you use it (if indeed it is another standard item from you guys’ tool box.)
00Q – licensed to teach!
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Definitely post these “life letters”! Make a new category.
My mother was always sending me boxes of real life. I don’t think always to be kind, either. 🙂
Blogging is like pen-pals, isn’t it? Except way quicker.
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stranger, thank you for the kudos. ybonesy and I greatly appreciate our readers (and it’s nice that is appreciated). Where would we be without them?
About RECALL, it is deep listening. And clear reflection of what the writer has just written (in the writer’s own words). I want to expand more on this and I have a post coming up on it.
But for now, here’s what Natalie has to say about RECALL in her classic book, Writing Down The Bones:
I’ll write more about it when I do my post on RECALL. Thanks for asking!
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leslie, I recently read something that talked about social networks like blogging as the new email. Pen-pals is not far off! I think I *am* going to talk to ybonesy about adding Life Letters as a new category. Along with Family Recipes. I have another of those coming up soon, too!
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QM
as they who, but for the events of unfond memory would even now I suppose be roaming through where you live, would say, this RECALL is big medicine.
P.S. Have you heard, and above all do you know the author of this?:
When Daniel Boone goes riding by
the phantom deer arise;
and all lost, wild America
is burning in their eyes.
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Great idea on the Life Letters and Family Recipes categories! Let’s do it.
stranger — I haven’t heard of that poem, and if I weren’t about to leave for dinner, I’d google it.
I love the conversation in the posts. The comments often have something that teaches and inspires. Our commenters are generous, here and on their blogs.
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stranger, it’s from a book, A Book of Americans, written by Stephen (Vincent) Benét (1898-1943) and his wife, Rosemary Carr Benét. Here’s an excerpt from the page I found:
He appears to have been quite the poet and writer. John Brown’s Body is the work I am most familiar with. You can see more of all this at Books and Writers – Stephen Benét (LINK).
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This was so endearing. 🙂
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I found a drawer, not a box, of similar things when my mother moved house. I can’t believe all that material was saved. I was happy and shocked at the same time.
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Stevo, did you save anything from the drawer? I remember my mom used to have a drawer, too, of all of our cards and letters. Recently, she sent me a couple of scans of homemade cards I had sent her. I didn’t even know she had saved them. What surprised you the most about what your mother saved?
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I was looking for some Betsy Clark images and came upon this page. WOW! I thought I’d lost my mind and had forgotten that I put this page up. LOL! I’ve saved old letters from school also. One in paticular looks just like your “sorry so sloppy” note.
You’re from MN? I’m originally from Forest Lake.
I wish I could send a copy of my “sorry so sloppy” note that I gor from a friend. You’d just die!! LOL!!
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Kim, welcome to red Ravine! Glad you found ybonesy’s letters post. It has continued to inspire. It seems like everyone can relate to old letters, and particularly those from our “sorry so sloppy” and Slam Book days. I guess we were all taught not to be “sloppy” letter writers or have sloppy handwriting. 8)
I’m from Minnesota (QuoinMonkey) and my blog partner, ybonesy, is from New Mexico. We run this blog together, 50/50, in it for the long haul. ybonesy, who wrote this post, is in Vietnam at the moment so I’m responding for her. So glad you found us! And hope you keep checking us out!
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[…] been thinking about the lost art of writing postcards and letters. A few weeks ago, while staying at my uncle’s place in Georgia, I began the long process of […]
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[…] I went to scan the photo of my father, I found a poem that one of my daughters printed out on my old scented stationery. I’m not sure if one of them wrote it or if they found it somewhere, but I loved it and […]
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I saved all my high school letters and love looking through them with my friends! I always sent Betsy Clark cards…..I love So so sloppy…what memories!
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I collect these stationery Betsey Clark, SNOOP, Mary Hamilton!
Please, if you have, please, I’ll buy!
Do not throw away, they are a real treasure for me ….
I collect since childhood!
Thank you!
Carol
anicarcosta@hotmail.com
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Ran across this blog while looking up “Holly Hobbies” as I was sifting through boxes of old memories. The Holly Hobbies stationery I found are from the late 1970s early 1980s, so they are the Betsy Clark version. Brought back lots of tween and teen memories
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