BURGER COLUMN: Back when the mail mattered

I can only imagine how her fingers trembled when she opened the mailbox and found a hand- written letter from halfway around the world.

It was during the war years when my father was fighting his way across Europe and my mother was back home nursing my older brother.

I have copies of those letters, so personal, so loving, so long ago and far away.

And yet they speak of a time when pencil and paper were almost as scarce as the time it took to scrawl a few lines of affection, a tearful memory, perhaps something funny, and everybody's fear of the unknown.

That those letters were saved, stowed away after all these years, speaks to their value, and how much they meant at the time.

Pen pals

I go to the mailbox today with low expectations. Seldom does it contain anything worth the walk.

A couple of bills, another credit card offer, a news magazine, countless catalogues.

Mostly junk mail, addressed to Current Resident. Nothing that stirs the heart.

When I was young, the mail brought good news and bad, in similar envelopes. You never really knew which until you carefully opened the letter and investigated the contents.

As a child, I got birthday cards from a distant aunt. Sometimes they contained a dollar, which was a big deal.

In adolescence I had a pen pal in Pennsylvania. It was a school assignment that carried some excitement, until it ran its course and we both ran out of things to say.

Later, there was a girl I met at summer camp. She was from another small town, and I used to wait nervously for her letters to see if they smelled of perfume, eaux de puppy love.

Then there were those anxious days when we'd run to see if there was a letter of acceptance from the college of our choice. One finally said yes.

And, of course, there were those letters that came unexpectedly. Like the day Uncle Sam sent his greetings by mail, saying I had been selected to serve our country. Lucky me.

E-vites

There was a time when the sight of the postman working his way down the street was something akin to Christmas, or the ice cream man driving his colorful calliope.

Now, it's the UPS or FedEx truck that catches our attention as they drop off yet another Internet order.

Even thank-you notes and invitations arrive by e-mail, Twitter, or Facebook these days, a faster but somewhat depersonalized mode of expression.

And while I'm just as guilty of using modern technology to communicate with friends and family, I suppose I just miss the suspense of opening the mailbox, sorting through letters, seeing my name handwritten on an envelope, running it under my nose, trying to catch a faded scent, slowly slicing it open, and wondering, for a change, what's inside.

Reach Ken Burger at kburger@postandcourier.com or 937-5598 or on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Ken_Burger.