One is Silver and the Other Gold

I miss my friends in New Hampshire. There. I've said it.

When I was young, my mother didn't have any female friends that I remember except a woman she worked with. I don't ever remember her going out for an impromptu lunch or catching a Friday night movie with a friend. She rarely chatted with any female friends on the telephone. My heart is heavy.

I am blessed with circles of friends, and some of the circles overlap -- many are from church, most are from leisure activities I enjoy -- rughooking, knitting, on-line Scrabble, singing, bell-ringing -- still others I've met through work, and in recent months, I've even reconnected with a couple of friends from high school. Pure gold that still glistens nearly forty years later.

Electronic communication has dramatically changed the ways we keep in touch with both friends and family; a quick e-mail can be popped off in moments; a text message on my cellphone that includes a brief movie of grandson G's first T-ball swing (by the way, he's a natural!), or a photo of Beth's latest haircut lifts my spirits for the whole day! I can't WAIT to visit each Sunday afternoon with one of my sisters by web-cam. In fact, just last week I gave her a "virtual tour" of my new home by dragging my laptop and webcam through my house and outside around the yard. I e-mail with my sisters and brother nearly daily, and sometimes multiple times in a day. Overall, the world of computers and cellphones has made communication more frequent and often more compelling (at least in this baby boomer's estimation).

Yet there is nothing like the thrill of a REAL hold-in-your-hand-letter or card in the mailbox! We now collect our mail at the local post-office. I've never had a P.O. box in my life (does the one in my college dormitory count?). And I do love to go to the post office six days a week to see what's in that little box. Just this week I've realized that I can nearly always approximate the volume of mail in that little box on the bottom row by listening carefully as the key turns in the lock; a full mailbox sounds...well...different from an empty one.

And of course, the "I still feel like I'm 13 years old inside" part of me always loves to get a phone call from a friend. The 'caller ID' feature is a bit like peeking under the wrapping on Christmas morning. Unless it's a nasty telemarketer or a blocked ID.

Blogging is a way to keep in touch with dear friends I've known for fifteen or twenty years, and of course with family members, too. I worry though that my golden NH friends might think that my blog is a wimpy way to keep in touch. Truth be told -- I put hours into each blog entry -- I craft my words with far more precision and thoughtfulness than I do when I pop off a hasty e-mail or forward a joke that's been forwarded to me. I hope they find time to read my blog occasionally.

I made some new (silver) friends yesterday. I was invited to visit a local chapter of an international women's group I belong to -- the women were so welcoming and we had a terrific time together. The women range in age from late-40's to mid-90's. We quickly found many connections including books, gardening, and music. Our hostess prepared a delicious lunch -- sliced chicken, homemade chutney (fabulous!), potato salad, and fruit. Of course I graciously thanked our hostess as I headed home.

But at the end of the day, I don't want to write an e-mail to thank the hostess; to thank a new friend by hitting some keys on my computer seems inadequate. I need to feel the flow of ink on specially chosen paper -- there is a greater commitment to putting something down on paper that involves selecting just the right stationery, composing just the right words (no delete key!), paying attention to spacing. Neatly slipping the note into its matching envelope, hunting down the address, and applying the stamp to the envelope all denote a greater commitment to the act of writing. And to those to whom I write. (Note to Beth: Maybe riding my bicycle to the post office to mail this note will leave a smaller carbon footprint than if I were to drive my car there?)

Now where IS my stationery? I know it's here somewhere . . . maybe I could write to some of my old friends, too. I sure do miss them.