Real Mail Still Offers Some Excitement

On a recent cold and rainy evening, I found myself trudging to my campus postbox to check for any mail, which by then would have been lying untouched for nearly two months. I had no doubt that the box would be empty - college students don't get much mail besides credit card offers, parking ticket notices and university notifications about yearbook pictures and career office meetings.

So it was to my supreme shock and delight to find an envelope with my name on it - not typed, but handwritten - awaiting me in that mailbox.

One sharp corner of that little blue envelope was jutting out from underneath a month-old flier for a graduate studies meeting. I quickly snatched it up, checking the return address to see who had been so thoughtful, so diligent a friend and so organized that he or she kept stationary in order to stay in touch, as distant as we all may seem these days.

This uplifting 4-by-6 card, as it turned out, was from a schoolmate of a friend, who I know by name but have never met. She was willing to spend five minutes of her time and 41 cents for a stamp just to brighten a stranger's day.

This particular young woman sends my good friend cards for every occasion, sometimes when there is none at all, sometimes when the address is halfway around the world. I have often commented to my friend on how impressive her unfailing correspondence has been. Apparently, when she heard how much I admired her commitment to the postal service, she decided to send me my own bit of mail.

For a lot of college students, most conversations are online, instantly messaged between two people, both of whom are usually talking to eight other people at the same time, listening to music, writing a paper and eating. And it's usually just a conversation of convenience, when the other person happens to be online and you're looking for an excuse to waste some time. It's not that you are thinking of that person and want them to know - their Internet screen name just happens to be on your radar at that exact moment.

The excitement was so much that I could barely tear open the envelope. I read the note slowly, savoring every neatly written letter. It said nothing earth-shattering, of course, but rather a few perfectly pleasant sentences one might expect from a stranger unsure of what to say. In short, the words themselves were pretty anti-climactic.

And yet, I was unable to wipe the grin from my face for several minutes. I ran back to my room and searched for the note cards I bought at the beginning of the semester.

I vowed to send at least one to each of my friends at their schools, if only to allow them one ounce of the happiness I felt knowing that good old-fashioned letter writing is indeed alive and well, and that someone had thought of me without being prompted to by a box on a screen or a message on a phone.

I sat down at my desk. In less than three minutes, I had written my original correspondent a note, thanking her for the card and wishing her the best. I scrounged around for some loose change to buy a stamp, dropped the envelope off to be mailed on my way to class, and thought about how happy she will be to open her own mailbox and find my note waiting for her.

There's still a place for snail mail in this digital age after all.

Staff Columnist Dafna Laskin is a 7th-semester history and journalism double major. She can be contacted at Dafna.Laskin@UConn.edu.