Jenn Lyles
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Hidden somewhere
in some box in one of my closets, you’ll find dozens of letters
from boys in elementary school. You know, the “check yes or no”
kind, and the “do you like me or like like me?” notes. My
television sits on an old pine chest, filled with letters my
husband’s grandparents wrote each other throughout the war. I love
sneaking into them and reading of the love they had for each other,
written on pieces of paper.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>I’m afraid texting and
emails have replaced the distant memory of notes, and I’m wondering
if this next generation will have a pile of old cell phones with
saved text messages on them.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>These newer forms of
communication are taking the mystery out of life I yearned for as a
kid. Racing home to get the mail so I could see if my best friend
from across the country wrote me was thrilling. Pen pals were the
best unit we covered in the third grade.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>It’s sad that my niece who
was just born last week probably will never experience those
thrills. I suppose she’ll never even know what she’s
missing.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>Passing notes in class has
now been replaced with sending texts under the desk. You don’t need
to ask a friend to ask a friend to ask a friend if that boy likes
you anymore. He’ll just write on your wall if he does.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>Or what about the summer
romances you had as a kid? The one where you’d go on vacation with
your family and meet some other kid who was on vacation with his or
her family. Then at the end of the week, you’d exchange addresses
and promise to write each other. I like not knowing where he is. I
love those little mysteries in life that separate us from people we
can hardly remember anymore.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>Now, thanks to Facebook,
that boy who I sat next to in the fourth grade and hardly talked to
knows what I look like, where I live, what I do for fun and where I
went on vacation last summer.
<p class="MsoNormal" style=
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“font-size: 14pt; font-family: Times;”>Electronically, the thrill,
mysteries and fun of being a kid are being stripped away from this
next generation, and I think it’s sad. I love my notes in a box so
much more than posts on a wall.