It's morning in Barra de Navidad.
Usually, I start the day with a at least a 5-mile walk. Sometimes more. My normal route takes me through most of our little village.
This morning, I decided to walk around the upper terrace of the house because I had developed an unexplained blister on my right heel. But the walk did not last long. It is a far better morning to correspond with friends.
"Correspond" does not necessarily mean sitting in front of a computer to write essays to you kind folks or to shoot off emails around the world. Though I do both of those frequently.
I am very fond of technology and I like its immediacy and convenience. The latter far more than the former. Convenience is -- well, convenient. Who can complain about that?
Immediacy, however, is often a trap that sacrifices well-considered thoughts on the altar of Gotcha Good.
Most of my life, I have set aside time to correspond the old fashioned way. With fountain pen, stationery, and paragraphs customized for the recipient. I long ago discovered that putting a pen to paper improves my thought process and gives me the luxury of spinning out explanations.
Picking up a pen makes me feel a bit like Professor Harold Hill paen to being a billiard player. That the hours spent with cue in his hands were golden. "Help you cultivate horse sense/And a cool head and keen eye."
And we can all use a bit more horse sense along with a cool head and keen eye. Writing does that for me.
When I went to the post office two weeks ago to pay the rental on my box, it was my birthday. Because of my travel schedule, I had not checked on my mail for about six weeks. The postmaster retrieved a postcard, two Christmas cards, a Christmas-gift calendar, and two birthday cards.
When I told an acquaintance who spends only her winter here, she responded with a mixture of disgust and surprise: "Christmas cards in January? That is why we do not use the mail here. It is so unreliable."
I would have thought that was an odd response until I remembered, even though I have long praised the local mail system, I almost always end up admitting that it does take its time in delivering the goods.
But I long ago realized that is not the point of the local mail system -- or most correspondence no matter who handles it around the world. Unless you are conducting some form of business that requires timeliness, it is always good to hear from our friends and acquaintances. No matter how long the mail has been delayed.
My haul that day included --
- A post card from my blogger chum Gary Denness, who I have now known for about a decade (the eye of london is upon us).
- A calendar from my friend Howard Nobunaga in Hawaii, a law school friend from the 1970s, who has sent me a Christmas calendar each year since the early 1980s.
- A Christmas card from my grade school friend, Dave Eikrem.
- A Christmas and birthday card from Jim and Stephanie Hunt. We were neighbors in grade school and high school.
- A birthday card from Colette Duncan, another grade school and high school, as well as college, friend.
It was't until I said that that I realized I was once again riding the "relationships trump time" argument (get me to the church on time). And maybe I am actually starting to practice what I preach.
We often dismiss "it's the thought that counts" as a fatuous cliché. And often it is.
But, when applied to correspondence, the adage has the gravitas of an Aristotelian First Principle. The very essence of good correspondence is the thought it conveys.
Almost everyone who commented on the death of President George H.W. Bush referred to his gentle habit of hand-written notes. Certainly, it was a mark of his social class, but, more than that, it was proof of his personal class. He cared about people and wanted to show it in a tangible way.
I will never rise to that level of correspondence, though I do my best to keep part of that tradition alive.
Today, I will write a thank you note to Howard for the calendar, and I will send off March birthday cards to my nephew, a former client from the 1980s, a Salvation Army officer who served at the Salem corps in the 2000s, my putative daughter, and my sister-in-law. Because I will be will too far away from each of them on their birthdays, the Mexican mail system will carry the burden of converting my thoughts into a piece of paper in their hands.
Even if the cards arrive late, it truly is the thought that counts. It also gives me another opportunity to celebrate our relationships.
And that counts for something.
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