Posted July 30 2008 by Ezra Butler
The Importance of Being Personal
Over the past few months, I have been consolidating my life into my new home. I combined my office and my home into a new apartment. First, I moved the critical items - the clothing that I love, the computers I need, the books that I must have around (although I lack the time to peruse them), etc.
As the weeks went on, I transferred like piecework additional parts of my personal history, more books, more clothes, more computers, and other items that I have accrued over the past 5 years. Alas, the contract on my apartment is ending on the 31st of July, so in my typical style, I waited to the last minute to clean and empty my room. There is no word to describe said location besides “hellhole” (o.k. - acceptable synonyms may be “purgatory” or “limbo”, the jury is still out). I am a pack rat, and I seldom throw anything out. For instance, I have enough clothing to clothe a mid-size army. A sizable percentage no longer fits me (too big) and I really should give it away. But I digress.
In the emptying/cleaning process, I went through many papers, letters, and other written matter. Every time I came across an event invitation (wedding or bar/bat mitzva), I thought about the guest(s) of honor. In one instance, I even thought of their year old daughter.
I discarded with years of bills, books given to new immigrants, boxes and guides to cell phones no longer in existence or use, and reams of photocopies done during the course of my grad school studies and research. I made sure not to spend time reading them, as I knew that I would regret my actions, and save random articles (as I did with “Did the Greeks believe in their myths?”) My academic brother Menachem would have literally crucified me for the amount of knowledge I “summarily” discarded. This rite seemingly marked the end of my studies, although admittedly, I have not read these articles in a year and a half.
But this post is not about those articles. True, a part of me died when I tossed those bags into the dumpster. Although, I did chastise myself for saving (and even not opening until today) bills for utilities and the like, that I never needed to read. I even tweeted “Dear world, I am sorry but I threw out that bill from 2005. Pls send an email nxt time. Best regards, ez”. Life would be so much easier if all companies in Israel would simply send email correspondence. I would happily save in my gmail account years of history, printable upon demand. It would save them much money, as well.
Yet, the urge to write this post did not come from the over-abundance of data either.
Like an archeologist, I found, buried under other items a few letters and cards. Notes that people have written to me. From my grandmother, and some friends, ranging from a few words to poems and everything in between. Re-reading these caused my heart to palpitate in a way that an email, a facebook message, a text, or a even a tweet has never before.
Somehow, reading those scraps of paper, even from people that I am no longer in touch with, had transported me back into time to when I received the notes. Someone tweeted a few weeks back about how much he enjoyed watching people smiling when they received text messages from people they loved. He would have been ecstatic from my smile in that moment.
As my grandfather and grandmother both say, letter writing is dead. Perhaps it shouldn’t be.
It may seem antithetical for a technophile, such as myself to declare the following, but I feel that it is important.
Write to your friends, family, and loved ones. Just tell them you appreciate them, love them, thank them, anything. Perhaps they are like me, and they save everything, and one day you may bring a smile to their faces.
Societies are based on communication, but sometimes those communiques must be more personal.
Thank you.
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