Letters From Me

I've just finished reading Lilian Jackson Braun's The Cat Who series--all 29 books!  Have you read them?  They are "cozy mysteries" in which a Siamese Cat named Koko helps solves murders.  After a few books James Qwilleran, Koko's owner, settles in the fictional town of Pickax City, population 3,000, "400 miles north of everywhere."  It is widely believed Braun's setting was somewhere in Michigan where she lived for a number of years.  One of the reasons I loved the series so much is that Qwill, as he was nicknamed, lived within walking distance of downtown and made his daily rounds visiting eateries, shops, and visits with the storekeepers, etc.  This reminded me of my three years in Valparaiso, Indiana (1964-67) when I was a teenager.  This is a postcard off the Internet of downtown Valpo, as we called the town, in the 1960s. . . .

Lincolnway, Valparaiso, Indiana

Our house was on this main street--Lincolnway--just a few blocks down.  A few blocks the other way in this photo was where I worked after school at the soda fountain in a drugstore for 80 cents an hour.  It didn't last long because I started dating my husband-to-be and had no time to work!  The movie theater was on this street where I saw A Hard Day's Night at least six times, if my memory serves me correctly.  There was a little diner I'd hang out in after school with friends who had their own rock 'n roll band.  They'd play in the basement of the hotel a couple blocks from my house on the weekends. The dress shop where I spent all my soda fountain earnings was also on this street.....I could go on and on--the courthouse where I got my driver's license, post office, library.

Braun wrote so vividly that I had to stop myself from Googling Pickax City to find out more about the town.  I feel I know all her characters personally and will miss them and always wonder what they are up to now.  In her last book, The Cat Who Had 60 Whiskers, Qwill tells a friend that he's been thinking about the pleasure he gets from writing a private journal.  He says, "It's not like a diary, where you record daily events, but a place for thoughts and ideas, no matter how personal or crazy.  No matter how amateurish...."  Thinking about it later, "Qwill was reminded of his 'lean and hungry years as a young man in New York':  He wrote [in his journal]:

My furnished room had an old wind-up Victrola and a single 78 record:  Johnny Mercer singing "I'm Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter."  I played it every night because I couldn't afford to buy another one.  Now three decades later it runs through my mind every night when I sit down to write to myself in my journal."

I couldn't find Johnny Mercer singing it, but I did find this. . . .

                      

Because I moved so much growing up I began writing letters early on to the best friend I'd always have to leave behind.  Then when the guy I was to eventually marry was drafted I wrote him every day, mailing them every few days for a year and a half.  After we married I wrote weekly letters to my mother and occasionally to my mother-in-law.  Those were the days when a stamp was cheaper than a phone call.  I've saved all those letters. When my dad passed away suddenly in 1978, I dug through the box of letters in my attic and found the four he'd handwritten to me during the decade since I'd left home.  They are precious to me.  Today with rising cost of postage and the immediacy of email, handwriting a letter is a thing of the past, unless you belong to the Handwritten Letter Appreciation Society.  They promote the art of handwritten letters.

Qwill's comment about writing to himself in his journal, however, has given me an idea. Too often my journal entries would be more like diary entries by Qwill's definition.  So this morning in order to get myself in the right frame of mind I actually started with Dear Cathy.  I was surprised how my style of writing changed, how paragraphs began forming, how organized my thoughts became.  All those years of letter writing were being put to use.  Later, I sat down and wrote myself back!  I expressed concern about something I'd written in the earlier entry that was troubling me--just like I would if a friend had written me about something troubling her.  It was exactly what I needed at that moment.  I realized the only way to deal with the stress caused by what was troubling me was to clean something.  I don't know about you, but when I'm under a great deal of stress I find cleaning or gardening or doing anything that requires physical activity helps me a great deal--otherwise, I do what I call stress eating which is not at all productive, unless you count producing more weight around my middle section.  I also realized that I was accessing both sides of my personality at the same time--the part that is insecure and fearful and the part that is confident and trusting.  It was as though I was acknowledging my weakness in that moment and then choosing to let my confident/trusting self take over.  I actually listened to myself and took my advice.  :-)

So as the song says, I'm gonna sit right down and write myself a letter that I would want to receive from a best friend.

What about you?  Was there a time in your life that you wrote actual handwritten letters to someone?  Have you read The Cat Who mystery series by Lilian Jackson Braun?  Did or do you live in an area where you can walk to everything you need?  I love to hear your thoughts on any of these topics.  Why don't you write me a letter (in the comments)!

Check out my post on journaling 
Check out Debra Eve's Later Bloomer post on Lilian Jackson Braun.
Check out Susan Branch's posts on the Art of Handwriting and Letter Writing 101