書信時代一去不復(fù)返了嗎？

“And none will hear the postman’s knock without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten？”

“聽到郵遞員的敲門聲，沒有人不會心跳加速。畢竟有誰能承受被人遺忘的感覺呢？”

—— W. H. Auden （W. H. 奧登，美國詩人）

When I heard the US Postal Service would no longer be delivering mail on Saturdays starting this August， a little ping of apprehension and sadness hit me. One of the best parts of my day is getting the mail. I know this is not the case for everyone. Bills come in the mail. Useless flyers from new dentists and Chinese restaurants in town also come in the mail. But every evening when I head out to my mailbox …

I hope there will be a letter.

There is little else that brings as much joy to my day as receiving a letter from my mom or a friend. In all the BBC period dramas that I obsessively watch， receiving a letter is a big deal. Women breathlessly flutter1） out of rooms so they can sit alone to read their letters. In love letters， a person’s character is determined by the quality of their penmanship2）. Answering the letters is even more of an ordeal3）， taking sometimes up to half the day depending on the amount of gossip held therein！

When I was growing up， letters were pretty much relegated4） to special occasions， like birthdays and Christmas， but it wasn’t until I went to college that the true impact of personal mail hit me. Getting mail inspired the envy of everyone in the campus post office who happened to see you， and if you were lucky enough to get a package， you’d also hope you were lucky enough not to get ambushed on the way back to your dorm. Physical mail was the connection to the people in the outside world who existed beyond the bubble of college life.

For the four and a half years that I was in college， my mom faithfully sent me a card every week. To this day， that is one of the most meaningful things she has ever done for me. Her little notes of encouragement saw me through some tough times. Every week， I knew I was going to get a card from Mom， and it didn’t matter how short the note was or what graced5） the outside of the card. What mattered was that I knew without a doubt she was thinking of me. Someone out there in the big， huge， crazy world hadn’t forgotten about me. The act of purchasing a card， writing a note， buying a stamp， and mailing the letter spoke of care and love louder than any email I ever received.

After graduating and moving on with my life， I never forgot the impact of mom’s letters. Whenever I traveled anywhere I’d keep a small address book in my purse （this was before smartphones）， along with a supply of stamps， and send postcards to my girlfriends. All of a sudden I started getting postcards from all over the world！ My fridge was covered with a mosaic of exotic pictures and familiar handwriting from my closest friends. In every circumstance we could have emailed each other and saved the trouble of mailing something in a foreign place， but that would have diminished the joy of touching a piece of paper from another part of the world where a friend was thinking of you.

I heard a story on NPR6） a few months ago about a man named Phillip Kunz who carried out a social experiment by sending 600 Christmas cards to people he had never met. He added a personal element to each one and sent them out into the void. The response was overwhelming. Suddenly he and his wife were flooded with mail from well-wishers who appreciated the Christmas card. The experiment was carried out in 1974， and to this day， Phillip still receives many Christmas cards from the original group he reached out to so many years ago.

Then， there is the matter of thank you letters. I will never forget all the times as a kid when my mother made me sit down at the dining room table and write thank you notes to anyone who’d ever sent me a check， a gift， or did something nice for me. I think she was trying to convey the importance of acknowledgement when another human being displays a kind and generous nature. We’ve all had those moments when we’ve sent a wedding gift only to never hear from the bride or groom that it was even received. Bummer7）.

It’s not about getting a huge ovation8） so you can stroke your ego about how awesomely kind you are， but it is nice to know that your friend appreciated the time and care you took to send a gift. There have been times when I’ve neglected to send a thank you note for a gift and felt like the biggest jerk， riddled with remorse， and paralyzed by laziness. I am not proud of these lapses9） in acknowledgement because the old-fashioned part of me thinks it’s only polite to say thank you. I’ve sent thank you emails and texts for the simple immediacy of letting someone know how a gift they’ve sent has thrilled me， but part of me fights against this instant gratification of the digital age for the simple fact that it’s not as personal as a letter.

When I moved into my first house last year friends and family from around the country filled my mailbox with notes welcoming me to my new home. I don’t know why it had never occurred to me to send a card when someone buys a house， but I sure will in the future！ I was blown away by the kindness and love that shined through those notes of celebration for this big step in my life.

I saved all those cards because I want to remember that time， to remember that my friends and family walked beside me encouragingly and sent their love even though they couldn’t be there. A congratulatory text is nice， but I won’t be pulling that out of the drawer in five years smiling from the memory of the joy it brought me when I received it.

Call me a sentimental fool， but I worry that the art of letter writing will be utterly lost， disappearing into the binary10） code of the future. Many schools no longer teach cursive11） handwriting， and children grow up learning how to use iPads and computers from infancy. Heck， my cats even enjoy the occasional iPad game. But something beautiful is vanishing. I can recognize who a letter is from by the handwriting on the envelope. Handwriting is part of our identity， and yet we have little need for it in the digital age， making a letter all the more special and personal.

I hope the US Postal Service can hang in there and people will be able to send letters for many years to come. I also hope that more people are encouraged to resurrect12） this lost art of communicating with the handwritten word. There are so many reasons to write a letter to someone you care about， if only to13） know that it might bring a much-needed smile to their face.

當(dāng)我聽說從今年8月起，美國郵政服務(wù)公司逢周六將不再投遞信件時，心里不由泛起一陣憂慮和沮喪。我一天中最大的樂事之一就是收信。我知道并不是所有人都這么想。郵寄過來的有賬單，也有城里新開張的牙醫(yī)診所和中餐館寄來的無用的小廣告。但是每天晚上，當(dāng)我向郵箱走去時……

我希望里面會有一封信。

幾乎沒有什么比收到媽媽或朋友的來信更讓我高興的了。在所有令我看得著迷的BBC時代劇中，收信都是一件大事。收到信的女子上氣不接下氣地慌忙跑出房間，只為了能獨自坐下來讀信。如果是情書，從一個人的書法好壞就能斷定其個性。回信更是一件熬人的辛苦活兒，根據(jù)寫在信里的家長里短的多少，有時甚至要花上半天的時間！

在我成長的歲月中，信件幾乎是生日、圣誕節(jié)這樣的特殊場合才會使用的東西。直到上了大學(xué)，我才真正體會到私人信件的力量。如果你收到信，那在學(xué)校郵局碰見你的每個人都會對你心生嫉妒。如果你足夠幸運，收到了包裹，那你還得祈禱自己足夠幸運，不要在回宿舍的路上遭到伏擊。大學(xué)生活充滿虛幻色彩，而有形的書信是與這種生活之外的外部世界的人們聯(lián)系的紐帶。

在我四年半的大學(xué)生活里，媽媽堅持不懈地每周給我寄一張卡片。直到今天，那都是她為我做過的最有意義的事情之一。