Today I’m currently doing something that so few in our generation will associate with. Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, brace yourselves – try to wrap your mind about what I am about to tell you:

I am writing a letter. By hand. With a pen.

Ink flows from the tip of this slightly tilted yet still strangely vertical device through which I find I am able to express myself easily with words! I have the power of the pen. I wield this mighty tool whenever I find myself in a situation in which I must urgently express and a thin contraption called a laptop is not handy.

My habit for writing letters came about when I was a child and my mom forced me to write “thank you notes” to anyone who gave me a present during Christmas or my birthday. I still do this but not because though my mom is still breathing down my neck to make sure my letters are all formed correctly, but because I enjoy the thought of my grandmother opening her mailbox and finding something besides a bill.

One of my best friends is a Marine and is currently serving his first tour in Afghanistan. Mat is a very strong individual, and he doesn’t like to ask for help or admit to caring very much for the sentimental value in things. I overlook this strong façade each time I send Mat something. I like to handwrite letters to him. Of course, I could type him a quick e-mail that looks something like, “hey bro, whats up lol how r u I hope ur safe in afghanistan so like text me sometime kk? <3” Then I could add some generic clip art (does anyone even use clip art anymore?), throw in a link to my Tumblr so he can see how trendy I am, click “send” and move on with my day.

Some seconds later, Mat would receive the e-mail and stare through a computer screen at the pixels that make up the thoughts I want to share with him. He’ll see the e-mail, hanging out in cyberspace, briefly think about whatever I wrote, and then go on his way in a sandy land I know so little about.

Or – I can spend an hour writing Mat a detailed letter about the past few weeks of my life, complete with an infinite list of questions about his current experiences. I can then print from my computer a photo of either something I wrote about or of the two of us before he was deployed, write our names and addresses on the front of an envelope and use forty-four cents in loose change to slap on a sign of my patriotism with Lady Liberty or the U.S. flag (which will also conveniently guarantee the delivery of this morsel of happiness to Mat, granted I write the address correctly. This really isn’t too difficult since I know how to write the alphabet and digits zero through nine without making too many mistakes.)

When Mat receives that letter, he will have a physical, tangible piece of evidence that I care about him. He can read that letter once and then use it to blow his nose into, or he can read it, store it in his locker and then take it out and read it again sometime. He can see my handwriting and know that I took the time to think about him, even though he is so far away.

Letters don’t have to be sent from one region of the world to another to matter. You can send a letter (for free) to your roommate in your residence hall via the campus mail and the post office in Hughes-Trigg or you can send a quick hand-written note to your family that says, “Just thinking about you! Hope you’re having a great day!” It means so much more to receive something hand-written than it does to read an e-mail.

I’m all for going green when it comes to receiving bills and statements via the internet, but I much prefer for sentiments between friends to be shared on paper. Trees are cool with it. I asked them. (My previous statement may not actually be true.)

When it comes to communication, we’ve come a long way since the dawn of the first post office in the United States (Boston, 1639). Now we can get in contact with all of our friends 24/7 via social networking sites. I can only hope that the convenience of texting is less of a potent emotion than that which is felt upon receiving a heart-warming greeting card.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me, the LED light on my Blackberry is alerting me of e-mail that I must respond to. Off I go.

Katrina Leshan is a junior majoring in music education and guitar performance. She can be reached for comment at [email protected]. Alternatively, she can be contacted through post at 3500 Princeton Avenue, Dallas, TX 75205