Friday, March 9, 2012

Write Back

(originally published in February 2009)

"Write back."

Remember those words- written at the ends of notes shared at school?

When notes weren't being passed, they were being folded into a fortune telling form of origami that could predict who you were going to marry.


Baby boomers created the precursor to

At the very least, these folded notes shared the truth about who you really liked and above all who liked you.

The good news is that the note decreed it- you didn't have to.

As a private person, this kind of note folding truth telling game was right up my alley, anonymity included-no strings attached.

Truth be told, it may not have all been about privacy.

Somehow I thought if you said something out loud , it would never happen.

Did anyone else have these powers of suggestion?

Why this memory? Why now?

It is the writing. It opens up a floodgate.

If you are worried about your memory, I highly recommend it.

Anais Nin said, "We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospection."

I love that.

I would much rather be involved in retrospection, as in a retrospective of your greatest hits (best all-time Greatest Hits Album: The Four Tops), rather than introspection.

Retrospection implies success; introspection simply sounds depressing.

Write Back.


Anonymous said...

I "bit" belated but I'm writing back, from one Texas boomer to another.

I much prefer retrospection but can't always find anyone to share those same memories.

Why is it that, suddenly, everyone is younger than I? Damn, these kids don't remember anything important. Like those origami notes.

I'll now spend some time catching up with you when I should be cleaning the house.

Karen said...

At the Worley's home about six little girls (and at times a stray little brother) sat cross-legged on a hard wood floor in our girl friend's bedroom. The year was 1956. We had our Crayons, scrap paper, paste, sizzors, pencils and pens. The smell of that sticky paste hung in the air and reminded us of our classrooms. When the time was "called" we each created masterpieces to share with our friends in the circle. We drew pictures, portraits, wrote poems, sent funny comments, penned a joke, cut out a picture and pasted it on a larger sheet... and when time was up, we mailed it! Not to a post office, but to our selected person who was the "postman". Each person was delivered a stack of mail. Then we took turns reading our received mail to the group. It was our version of "Post Office". It was early E-mail!
Thank you, Laura, for stirring up one of my most favorite memories from childhood.
Write back!
Ladybug Creek

Anne said...

Dear Laura ~ I'm so glad I "refound" your blog; I was here once before and likely got sidetracked looking at YOUR favorite blogs, and missed following yours ~ well, I'm a follower now (both Linky and GFC) and I'm putting you on my sidebar for quick access...:)
My, how I remember this...we called them "Fortune Tellers" ~ some were the kind, other, just random stuff...what a memory ~ some tried to make theirs as tiny as possible, etc. ♥ Now kids just text! Can you imagine if we'd had that capability??

podso said...

Oh my! I always used to end my letters "write back" whether it was a note folded carefully and passed along in school, or real letters written and posted to grandparents, or friends after we had moved from the town where I grew up, old college friends ... until email I was quite a letter writer. But it was so common to write that "write back." Now i'd more likely say "I look forward to hearing from you." Back then it was more of an insistance that the letter receiver indeed write back!

camdenarthur said...

Your nostalgic journey into the world of folded notes and youthful secrets resonates deeply. Writing indeed offers a unique window into our past, allowing us to relish moments long forgotten. For those facing the challenge of academic writing, Pay Someone To Write My Health Care Thesis provides a valuable resource, ensuring their scholarly pursuits are met with expertise and precision.


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