a letter - from hand to heart

A recurring gift in my life comes to me in the form of hand written letters from my Cousin Bill who lives in my ancestral homeland of the West Midlands, England. The envelopes with the stamp of the Royal Mail are a bit thinner and silkier than ours – and there is never a return address on the outside. However, there is no a doubt who the letter is from because it is written in long hand, the careful, time-honored script of great letters that traveled over land and sea, rather than through cyberspace in 11 point Arial type.

When I receive a letter from Bill – who is a sharp, eloquent and wise 80-plus gentleman – everything stops. Work, worry, bustle, business. It is as if I’ve been visited by a cleansing ocean breeze and as Mr. Tolle, the spiritual guru espouses, there is only the Now. Bill is my dear grandfather’s nephew who he left behind when he emigrated from Liverpool in 1913. Ironically, Bill and I discovered each other due to the miracle of the Internet and his talented son, Stephen, who does online genealogy research. That something so disconnected, so impersonal could lead to family bonds that had lain dormant for many decades is a modern miracle of the digital age. It’s led to letters from family traveling back and forth over the thousands of miles and covering centuries of history.

But, Cousin Bill is no ordinary man of letters. He writes with the ornate hand carefully tutored during an era when penmanship was an art. The carefully drawn characters serve to support the quality of the thought that is expressed in his letters. No simple updates and weather reports from Bill. And if such topics are touched upon they come with a humor, thoughtfulness or turn of phrase that makes them literary in nature. Consider the simple telling of how the Vicar in our family (Rev. Steve Osbourne) managed to embellish his small parish in Caverswall, North Staffs.

Writes Bill: “Steve is Vicar, in my humble opinion a lovely, gentle and understanding human being – the kind which is not always appreciated in today’s somewhat frantic pace of modern society. … The village church is of Norman origin (he also has two churches in adjoining villages). His Cravenswall building had no functioning “peal of bells.” So, with the help of his parishioners he set up a fund to finance the renovation of the bells, which has now taken place. Alas, at first, no team of ringers, so a team of volunteers was trained and now they enjoy a full peal for all suitable occasions.”

A simple, lovely story that (pun intended) rings true – Puns, I have also found, run in our family for better and worse. This time it was a three page letter with an addition from the Internet – a bio on one of his favorite musicians, Ray Brown. He is an avid jazz fan.

Cousin Bill has experienced a very challenging year. And the winters in the West Midlands are seldom kind. They are perennially overcast, rainy or snowing with damp air that cuts through any manmade garment. Some solace comes in the warmth of the pub, a pint and some live music, good family and conversation. He is looking forward to spring to exorcise the dreary winter and closes:

“Today has been a lovely sunny day, hopefully winter is petering out. I am hoping for a regenerative spring to boost to my low energy levels. If spring time is starting early my hibernation feelings will gladly be at an end and I shall surely feel better for the change of season.” If you had not known this letter dates from March, 2011, could you not imagine it the same a century earlier?

Such a small gift from hand to heart, I wanted to share it with you and ask you to picture it, blue ink on white paper, curled flourishes on the start and end of letters. Timeless.