Losing touch

Last weeek we received by courier a parcel from my son and daughter in law, gifts from their holiday in Thailand. What thrilled me more than...

Last weeek we received by courier a parcel from my son and daughter in law, gifts from their holiday in Thailand. What thrilled me more than the presents was a single page handwritten letter. I had forgotten my son8217;s handwriting and there it was, a lovely reminder of the notes from hostel, often asking for the depleting bank balance to be topped up.

How one misses the hand crafted letters of yore and the postman who used to be so much a part of our lives. Each day we awaited his familiar ring, restraining the canine lest he go for the coveted ankle. A picture postcard from a cousin, an inland letter from a friend with every inch of space crammed with spidery writing, the occasional money order8230; in our exhilaration we had no qualms in parting with a small baksheesh for the postman. Each item delivered by post had a personal touch, even the money order had a little message with a sign off!

Now we live in an era of instant communication. Brevity is the name of the game, even the e-mail appears too cumbersome when you can just punch in numbers on the mobile while in the shower or en route to work.

The extent to which we are caught up in abbreviated, 8216;8216;conversation interruptus8217;8217; dawned on me a couple of years ago when I had to send out invitations in the hundreds. While it was not difficult to get postal addresses of the older folks in their permanent residences, it was impossible to get those of Gen Next. At best parents or even siblings could give me e-mail ids, so I had to scan the invite and attach it to e-mails! The disembodied dispatch bothered me, but not the recipients!

So it goes with cash gifts. Can a wire transfer with a bank advice ever be the same as an m.o. and the fun of exulting with the postman?

Imagine if Elizabeth Barrett had to write her famed love verses this day and age, she would probably dispense with her lavender scented, rose encrusted letter head and dash off a Times Roman, sans serif, 14 pt epistle. When Robert opened his mail from BarrettsWimpole Street.com would 8216;8216;How do I love thee8230;8217;8217; read the same?

I doubt it!