When enough is enough

After completing a recent column about a childhood vacation with my grandparents, I pleasantly remembered my Grandmother Hart’s famous trip journals. Thinking of those long ago days when everyone regularly wrote notes and letters, I couldn’t help but compare our lifestyles back then, to the current instantaneous world of social media. Even though I do make use of emails, texts and other social media forums such as Facebook, I feel we have reached a tipping point where we should all cry out — “Enough!”

Some of my first memories from those old days include listening to my mother and my grandmother, read aloud the letters we wrote and received, from family members. My paternal grandfather, for whom I was named, lived in Warrensburg. Each week he sent us a letter relating what was happening within my grandparent’s lives. I clearly recall that he always mentioned their health issues (often saying he was feeling “punk”). At the time he and my Grandmother Carpenter were well into their latter senior years and they always seemed to have some health issue.

Grandfather Richard Carpenter was also famous for his “green thumb” reputation. He could literally grow anything. When you visited his home, the yard and gardens were like something you would see on television. During the warm months each weekly letter also included precise details of that weeks supply and condition of his produce and vegetables.

My mother would send her return letter to Grandfather, and she would read it to me, until I was old enough to write my own reply. My letters back then possessed little variation. Each time I began my epistle with exactly the same introduction. “Dear Grandmother and Granddad Carpenter. How are you doing? I’m doing fine.” The remainder included a few simple words. I would go on to tell them of what I had been doing that past week. One should note here, that this was in a time when long distance phone calls were a bit pricey. You didn’t call very often in those days and when you did it was generally for a conversation of less than three minutes (any lengthier calls became expensive). Thus, letters and quite often post cards (cheaper to mail) were the communication of choice.

Since we lived in the same town as my maternal grandparents, weekly letters were not exchanged between us. My Grandmother Hart, did write her sister, Mildred Zimmerman (formally of Nevada), twice a week. Her letters were always seven pages long. Mildred sent almost identical return letters each week.

Grandmother Hart was famous for her trip journals. Each time that she and Grandfather travelled, she would buy a small spiral notebook (these were always the pocket size). Within that notebook, she would keep a diary like set of memories for each trip.

As I am writing this, I recall her distinct penmanship style. Although she was right handed, her cursive letters had a slight tilt that was eerily similar to a left-handed writer. That was not to say her writing was not beautiful. Like many from her generation, she wrote a lot each day, and her style was consistent. I never had very good penmanship and I write so rarely today that when I fill out an infrequent bank check, my signature scrawl can best be described as “unsightly!”

Those trip journals became somewhat of a family tradition. Months or even years later, when we were gathered as a family, Grandmother would read aloud from one of her past vacation journals.

Again, these journals were diary like in their style and content. A typical day from her journey began with a description of the hotel or other sleeping destination used the night before. If it were a hotel or motel, she would include the price, size and other details of the room. She would also state things like when they went to bed and how they slept. If they had been guests of a friend or relative, she related precise details of the home and their hosts.

She always told of the aspects involved with the transportation and she went on to include mundane recollections such as road conditions, weather and what the countryside looked like. Each and every stop was also highlighted. She would precisely describe what restaurants that were used for each meal. The type and quality of the meals, plus what each person had ordered was on the list too.

Grandmother was from a generation that had been taught a strict manner of language use, writing style and penmanship. For her the ability to write letters and to keep trip journals was a wondrous gift.

I can still visualize her holding up her index finger to stop me when I used incorrect grammar. Her look was stern, but loving. She would say you could always tell a gentleman by the way they talk and write.

I fear that we have diluted our way of communicating when it comes to writing these days. Everywhere you go you see people, mostly young ones, who are transfixed to their smart phones. It is as if they are oblivious to what is happening around them.

They text and post countless times a day and there is no longer anything special to these communications. When you send and receive a dozen or more texts a day between dozens of people, it becomes almost mundane. Some people post so much on social media that they have little time for anything else.

There is an old saying, “stop and smell the roses.” I think my grandmother would understand that phrase in connection with letters and journals. They are only interesting when they are fresh, new and limited in numbers.

I write this column once a week. I try my best to keep it interesting and new. By comparison, the hundreds of texts and posts that fill the net each day, can never remain either fresh or new. When it comes to words, enough is enough!