He's going to hear from me...

My daughter and son-in-law had a son a few months ago, and I’ve already started writing him letters. I started writing when he was just a month or so old, and I sent him a thank-you note a few weeks ago for a lovely gift “he” sent me. I used printed block letters rather than script, but I’m really not sure why. I think the impetus for all the writing (besides the fact that I love to do it) was a box of letters I recently found from my mother to our daughter. They span many years, starting with short notes to her when she was just a wee one, to cards and letters to her while in college—and everything in between. There were congratulatory notes for good grades and other accomplishments, birthday letters, and even a note referencing a few dollars enclosed for a lost baby tooth, money long gone but the sentiment still very much intact. What really touched me was the familiarity of my mother’s hand and how it changed over the years according to our daughter’s age, from printing to measured script to Mom’s usual hurried scrawl signifying that our daughter was indeed old enough to decipher it. My Mother has always had too much living to do to worry about perfectly formed letters. The whole of them form a loving written chronicle of their relationship for a couple of decades, and they are priceless.

            I tried to immortalize other notes a few years ago. When my husband and I were planning our daughter’s wedding, we exchanged literally hundreds of emails with her since we live so far from one another. Some were hilarious. Some were quite serious. Each was so poignant in its own way.  I thought I’d print them and bind them as a first anniversary gift, but I never did. Email addresses changed, inboxes got overburdened, and they ultimately and easily found their way to that cyberspace graveyard via the delete button. So whatever your feelings about technology, pens and writing, there’s a timelessness and gravity in the written word that conjures the past and offers up the future like nothing else. And it defies deletion. 

Spring in Basel

I am at the BaselWorld watch and jewelry show in Basel, Switzerland. What a wonderful few days it has been, seeing and touching some exquisite new timepieces slated for introduction later this year. To make matters even better, it is spring in Basel, and everything is in bloom along the Rhine. If only I could find a few pens around here, life would be perfect. But wait: Montegrappa is exhibiting, as is Caran d`ache, Edelberg and more. Stay tuned for interviews and pictures when I return to my office this weekend.

Judge not and write a lot...

I don’t think I can ever REALLY leave my job at the office. Sure, I have a life, but it’s a grammatically correct one. As an editor, I don’t have the freedom to throw around casual sentences that end in prepositions. I am judged—if only in my mind. And this often leads to some pretty stilted—though complete—sentences in some awkward situations. Does anyone really ever say “whom” in conversation anymore? I do. Does anyone really care that the term “hold forth” is not the same as “hold court,” though they are often (and irritatingly) used interchangeably? What a burden, but what a joy: I love language. The same holds true, I think, in my use of pens. When I speak with people at shows or via letters to the editor of Stylus, I am often asked when and how I use my ever-growing collection of pens. In other words, do I really practice what I preach in the magazine? The answer is, yes. I write letters and notes. I keep a journal, and I’ve recently gotten into writing as meditation. But, unlike my fear of ever dangling a participle in public, I don’t do this because of my job. I truly love pens and the personal communication they engender. Earlier this year, I gave a presentation about how to put one’s pens to good use. At one point, I said something like, “One thing is for certain: if you send a letter, you’ll get a letter in return.” Boy, did I get a bunch of letters, and it took me almost a week to answer every one. I may be grammatically pretentious and a little judgmental, but I’ll write you back.