For all you title non-readers out there, I'll give you this opening caveat: there is a good chance that this could possibly be a long post, if only out of spite that this will be the second time I've written it because our power went out about 15 minutes ago.
So, without further adieu:
I have recently been told that I have an "intensity" in my writing, and that I am, in actual fact, the best e-mail writer ever (which may be an exaggeration, but whatever).
But, I digress, this is not actually to tell you what my writing has been described as (for the record, it has been referred to in far less flattering terms on many more occasions). What this is about is the lost art of writing.
This has been thrown back into the spotlight for me because, for the summer, Ben is at camp (he's a cook, but his parents got rid of him all the same), and, from the sounds of it, his only means of communication are letter writing and, when close enough, semaphore. So, to keep him updated on the various comings and goings of life with Daylight Savings Time (another story for another day), and to tell him that his boy's a Panther, I will have to write him letters.
I was also reminded recently of a trip to Barrie...last summer, perhaps...to get a typewriter with a young lady, upon which she could write letters. She always had a certain fondness for the romance of a typewriter and a typewritten letter; something more personal than a letter printed off a computer, something more legible than a letter written by hand.
I have also found it considerably safer to write to someone than to actually, you know, speak to someone. I do not have what you might call an affinity for the telephone. And, in person, my attempts at conversation often spiral violently down towards sheer incomprehensibility. But, with writing, I can usually craft precisely what I want to say, and how.
If I'm lucky, I can take this and use it in a real, actual conversation with someone, but, while that is becoming a more common occurence, I'm still not exactly where I would like to be.
Finally, my mind was made up to make this post after re-watching about 30 episodes of Sports Night, perhaps one of the most masterfully scribed shows ever. Maybe if you all buy the DVDs, it will be ressurected, à la Family Guy. I mean, West Wing's finished, it's not like Aaron Sorkin has anything else to do.