Sincerely yours

Maybe it’s because of the last few posts I’ve written between the two blogs that had to do with letter writing or maybe because of all the Christmas cards I wrote last week and are receiving and reading this week. Or maybe it’s because I was telling myself to start taking my own advice and in the new year to write real letters to real people. Whatever reason started my musings, I’ve been thinking about the way people sign off on their cards and letters.

Email got the world on the fast track of communication back in a different century. It’s been with us since the early 70s but businesses really took to it as a means of information sharing in the 1990s. Before the calendar turned that really big page onto a new millennium, just about every business in the world was conducting business correspondence by email, and tens of millions of individuals had signed up for personal email addresses.

The earliest email users still followed pretty formal letter writing styles with proper greetings, proper punctuation, full words, and even closings just like, well, just like mail. I know because I was among the earliest email users getting my first exposure to it in 1984. An obvious draw of email was the speed by which ideas could be exchanged. The rapid returns and replies took a toll on some of the niceties. “Yours truly” plus your full name became “Yours” and maybe your initials to just your initials. Today with the ability to pre-format signature blocks, an email is likely to be closed with more information that what might have been on a 1970s business letterhead! But when it comes time for the sender to actually close an email, we’re still struggling with things like “Yours,” or “Best,” or for the higher up corporate officers, “Regards.”

All this has seeped into personal letter writing, such as what still might exist. I look at some of the cards I’ve gotten this week and of the ones that have more than a “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays,” most senders added word or two, usually “Love,” but a couple “Soon” (one with a !), a few “Take care,” and one “Blessings.” (I liked that, and appreciated it too!) But if you told someone they had to use more than 2 words to close a letter, a real letter, not just a card, how would they do it? What would you write? 

If I am going to start writing letters next year I better get on the ball now and figure out how I’m going to close them. What will be my personal sign off? “And you must now consider me, as, dear [sir or madam], your most obliged, and most humble servant,” has a wonderful sound to it but alas, Samual Johnson used it so often it’s become downright trite. But it is certainly better than a curt “Yours truly” or even a “Very truly yours.” But no, I need something somewhere between them.

Some ways I’ve decided I will not end my letters are:

  • Sincerely yours (Of course I’m being sincere! I am writing, aren’t I?)
  • Cordially yours (Of course, I’m being cordial! I am writing, aren’t I?)
  • Affectionately yours (Of course I’m being affectionate. I am writing … oh, never mind.)
  • Respectfully (Really?)
  • Hugs and kisses (Cute, but not for everybody.)

In the running are:

  • Always and forever, profoundly and affectionately, your dear friend
  • With sincere best wishes for your health and happiness
  • Stay well and happy, your dear, loving friend
  • Please forgive my horrible letter writing

I’ll get back to you about what I decide. Until then,

     I remain your humble and faithful servant, yours truly.


If you could do it all over again, would you? Could you? Read why we say you shouldn’t even have to ask if you take time now to review where you are in life and ready a reset for the new year in the latest blog post at ROAMcare.org.


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Calling All Comments

 
I swear I’m being singled out for some punishment for an infraction I am unaware of. Either that or I (more likely) have done something to my WordPress account without realizing it. You probably wouldn’t have noticed because I’m not a terribly often commentor although when I do I tend to be a verbose commentor, but now I’ve become a non-commentor. Actually I was made a non-commentor but I don’t know who did the making although something tells me it could have been me.
 
I think this might have started around Christmas. I commented on somebody’s post and I would typically get some reaction but I didn’t. I’m sure I didn’t think much about that because it was the holidays and everybody’s life gets a little busier then. It was probably a couple weeks after that I did again and again I didn’t and then I thought “hmmm.” Then yet again and again not and then for sure I thought “well isn’t that the darnedest thing.” 
 
So I explored and discovered the comment I thought with which I commented wasn’t there. And it wasn’t here either. I reentered it carefully making certain to not inadvertently use any forbidden language, the hit the proper keys, then hit the proper keys properly, and then again. . . not there.
 
I was recieving comments. I could respond to comments I received. But I couldn’t and as of yesterday still can’t leave comments. I can live with that as long as you can but it is curious.
 
Now this all has more than just something to do with my inability to express my sentiments over your writing within the WordPress World. (Of course it does.) I was thinking how nice it would be if 99% of the people who comment to news articles in the various interwebs would also have their comments disappear into the miasma. 
 
QuillYou know I prefer printed newspapers over their electronic counterparts but many printed papers aren’t printing either because of limited advertising revenue or limited staffing during the pandemic or just because they don’t want to any more. The thing with the old fashioned printed papers, if you wanted to expand or expound, to clarify or question, or to take umbrage or offense with an article or editorial (back when they were different), you had to pull out the pen and paper or typewriter (Google it) or the word processor and printer, formulate your thoughts, convert your thoughts to writing, consider what you wrote, decide it was worth the price of postage, then put it in an envelope and mail it. Thus a letter to the editor. Typically a well thought, well worded, intelligent letter to the editor.
 
Today, any idiot with a phone, and today every idiot has a phone, can spout out whatever drivel it feels like spouting and “comment” on articles long before it starts thinking. Then some other jackass starts commenting on the comments and then were off to the races. It used to be a source of amusement reading the churlish ramblings of people who clearly failed blocks in kindergarten and hadn’t progressed much since, trying to make what I’m sure they feel are intelligent arguments. Or at least arguments. Today it’s just mean name calling and demonstrations of hatred. 
 
I wish news outlets would do away with the comment option but then some new idiot would say that’s infringing on the freedom of speech. So I am exercising my freedom to not listen and I’m not reading them. I’ve found as a result that I’m happier, my stomach doesn’t get so easily upset, my gums aren’t bleeding, and I swear my hair is coming back. 
 
And to keep things fair, I won’t be writing any comments myself. At least I won’t to any papers using WordPress for their distribution.
 
 
 
 
 

And That’s the Way It Is

Do you suppose it’s because it comes at the end of year?  Maybe it’s because it’s the one time we actually send real mail to so many people.  Perhaps it’s the only time that we remember we have an aunt in Missouri, no, that’s Mississippi, or somewhere that starts with M and is close to water.  Maine?  For whatever reason, Christmas is the unfortunate time and Christmas Cards the unsuspecting carriers for the dreaded Holiday Letter. 

Holiday Letters themselves are not bad things.  You may recall there was once a time when letter writing was actually the fashion.  Not everything was always communicated in 50 characters or less.  Sometimes we’d write glorious letters, pages long, and get similar responses.  The Holiday Letter was but one of several that would be distributed to friends and relatives throughout the year.

Today the Holiday Letter is often not much more than an excuse for why we never called.  You probably should have called.  You could have called and still written the Holiday Letter.  Then it becomes a bonus for the recipient.  An extra touch that someone actually took time to write.  And that’s nice.

No, the Holiday Letter isn’t a bad thing.  Sometimes a family is too large to keep in touch with every one over the year.  Sometimes there really is too much going on and a common letter to everyone brings all up to date with your happenings.  The Holiday Letter becomes that great orator for the one who just couldn’t get around to all those calls.  And it makes a great conversation starter for when next year’s calls get started.

Of course, sometimes the Holiday Letter can fall into the wrong hands.  Not a wrong recipient – a wrong writer.  Check out your mail this year.  Did you get a “personal letter” from your bank or Congressman, your church or your dog groomer?  Or perhaps from the bank that wants your business, the church on the other side of town, or the pet wash in the new shopping center.  (Sorry, you’re stuck with the same Congressman until next fall.)  It is bad enough that Christmas sales start before Halloween, the Holiday Letter marketing tool can weaken even the strongest spirit of Christmas.

She of We got her annual Holiday Letter from her newspaper carrier.  A little something to the 400 or so families on her route to bring them up to date on her vacations from earlier in the year, her latest plans for retirement, the health of her children and pets, and a reminder to keep those sidewalks and steps ice free during the winter months.  It was homier than the one He of We got from his dentist that described the new x-ray machine and the computerized insurance verification service, and a reminder to call now for an appointment but not for during the first week of March when they’ll be repaving the parking lot.

Nope the Holiday Letter in itself isn’t a bad thing.  But maybe we should be thinking about keeping that down to 50 characters or less also.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?