"Rip Up When Done...Don't Let Anyone Read This Note"

This was written on the front of one of the hundreds of "notes" that I found today when I sorted through a box of correspondence that I have kept from the past 20 years or so of my life. I am surprised by how emotionally charged this was. First of all, for someone who really only had 1 boyfriend (and then I married him), I had a surprising amount of material from potential suitors. Including a few 6-page letters from someone named "Bob", who, for the life of me, I can't even remember. His letters were too boring to make it all the way through, so I don't even have any clues from them as to his identity. Several letters from male friends still send me all a-flutter with memories of our almost-encounters, and the sense of potential that clung to the heavy cloud of our seventeen-year-old pheromones. Do you toss these? Maybe when you are old and frumpy it is a good thing to have reminders about how you actually had lots of options back in the day? Tee hee...
There were several high school teen age drama pieces--things that started out with "This has been the worst day of my entire life..." and went on to describe someone not sitting next to someone at lunch or someone not wearing matching t-shirts to the football game. There were also letters and cards from my first year in college, birthday and anniversary cards and a flurry of excitement and joy surrounding the year when we were married. I think ours was the first wedding many of our college friends had attended, and therefore we got a lot of attention for it. Included in this stash was correspondence that Brett and I exchanged in our early years, since we spent 2 years together, 2 years apart, 1 year together and then 1 year apart. This type of physical separation in young lovers creates ample opportunity for melodramatic written material (especially when one of the participants is of Italian descent)...many of which would cause me to blush if they were ever found by my children. I don't know if they would quite understand the humor we found in the abundant nicknames we used for each other back in those days. I am afraid the innuendo we thought clever and subtle would be entirely too clear. Even to a seven year old. Yikes.
Most surprising and interesting though, were the letters between myself and girlfriends in the few years following our graduation from college where we delineated our hopes for the future and discussed at great length the issues of the day. I was shocked at the voluminous pages I found where my friends and I openly and artistically explored our beliefs and affirmed our connection to one another. There are struggles with faith and politics, family relationships, social issues and career/lifestyle questions all under the umbrella of an unusually candid expression of community that I don't see in my life today. Why don't we talk/think like that any more? Mostly because the issues du jour now revolve around kids and careers, and frankly, we are too tired to write about it in too much detail. Or maybe we now identify so completely with our brand of politics or spirituality or parenting or career that there isn't anything left to talk about? Also the psychology of workplace troubles and kid-management problems are quite uncomplicated (read: boring) when compared with someone's dark night of the soul or wrestling match with one of the values bestowed by their upbringing which is now in conflict with their identity.
The whole exercise left me with a confused whirl of emotions--the relationships back then were so constant, so true...and though I am still friends with many of the same people today, our relationships now lack the seeking quality they once had. It is natural that over time...with distance and new priorities (read kids and careers) those idealistic college aged young adults with time on their hands to write pages and pages (in real ink!) and not on computers (real paper!) that wasn't sent electronically (it had to be taken to a mailbox!) would morph into haggard sleep-deprived parents with piles threatening to take over the desk and a to-do list that won't get done until their own kids leave for college. But what a loss...that idealism and openness, and lack of identification with groups (be they religious, political or social) that created buoyant, hopeful and brilliant ideas as a means to an end, the end being connection with others and making a difference in the world. Anyway, it surprised me, and leaves me longing vaguely for the past. Another interesting find was a bunch of letters from my sister. Cards she hand painted and the perpetual "Sorry I missed your birthday" sentence that always seemed to open the conversation. Were you always late? I don't remember it that way, but you seemed to think you were! The art was lovely and the kids really enjoyed seeing things that their Aunt had created. There were other treasures here too--some photographs, the garter from my wedding and a graduation hat that now reside in my kids' dress-up box, along with the gavel from a year as president of my sorority. And some MacDonald's cars that I remember feeling sure would become collector's items.
So the box is sitting there by the recycle bin, waiting to go. Do I get rid of it? Have you kept such material in your life? Do you ever feel the occasion to go back and read it all? To anyone who has done clean up after someone dies, whatever becomes of all this stuff? Just curious...I am feeling torn about it all.
And to Brett, Rachelle, Kimberly, Robin, Kellie, Gina, Julie-Kay, Melora, Stephanie, Sara, Mike, Chris, Brent, Keith, Steve, Doug, Lisa, Shelley and Diana--Thanks for your letters and "notes". Your personalities shine through in the paper and ink you chose. I can recognize each of your handwriting styles at a glance and it is with warmth and gratefulness that I am once again graced by your words.