Do you sometimes find something you haven't seen in a long time and all at once it' s there? And actually, it seems to have grown more precious with time.
I was trying to straighten up my office, again, when I found letters written in 1977 and 1978 by my brother, sisters, mother, and me. Yes! All five of us!
These family-epistles were little brother's idea, and this wasn't the first group of letters my family shared. It's just the one that surfaced today.
Brother was in the Army. Actually, I don't remember where he lived when he sent the first of many "family" letters to one of his three sisters. His instructions were to attach her family letter to his and forward it to another sister, and absolutely not to break the chain! The last sister to receive the letters was to send it to our mother.
In his instructions, he also emphasized that it would be near fatal if anyone broke the chain.
Of course the ink is faded and the paper is yellowed, but I've managed to read these family letters again . . . more than once, and yes, I wiped a tear or two.
Steve's letter is stapled on top, and my epistle is on the bottom and is dated the earliest (November 28, 1977). I started by saying, "I'm sorry for keeping our letter so long. Your eldest is getting forgetful."
Other facts shared include: Our Papa Dean died. Of course, they knew it, but I guess it was still on my mind. Papa Dean, our mother's father, was a delightful little man, the father of nine children and no telling how many grandchildren.
Continuing, I told that we had stayed home on Thanksgiving Day, but we ate well. David has a hurt thumb. Jeff practiced basketball all weekend, and I went Christmas shopping, while Bill worked the day shift.
I also lamented that since my husband would be working on Christmas Day, we wouldn't be going to Pine Bluff. Therefore, I was inviting the family to our house this year. (Please come!)
Then I responded to the letters I had received from my brother and sisters by inquiring: "Just how many laps did Brenda's son run around that track?"
Joe must have been raising money for something for I answered my question by saying, "I guess we'll all find out when we get the bill."
After telling the family what my family wanted for Christmas, I signed off by promising not to keep the family letter so long next time.
The letter on top of mine, dated January 1, 1978, was written by Mother. It starts, "Dear Children," and she thanked us for sending birthday and Christmas gifts. Her birthday was December 28. She said it was snowing in Pine Bluff (Arkansas) the day she wrote, and she wasn't getting out to go to church.
On March 17,1978, "Baby" sister wrote that she had lost brother's address and asked for someone to send it to her.
Brenda lived in Danville, near San Francisco, where her husband worked for TV Guide. Her boys were both playing baseball and Joe was on the way to Hawaii with his team, and she was getting to go, too! Her daughter was learning jumps and spins at her ice skating lessons, and her husband had lost 27 pounds going to Weight Watchers! She had started bowling and just got 205.
Her letter ended with "Hope everyone is well and happy. We'll see you all this summer! I'm not looking forward to the traveling part of the trip, but guess our little camper will be better than a covered wagon."
Middle sister, Jane's letter is so faded I can't read all of it. But it's signed: "See Ya! Love Jane."
(I'm going to keep looking, who knows – I'm good at keeping old things. Perhaps I'll find another stapled stack!)
Afterword: This is a great idea! Please use it! And pass it on! You will never be sorry!
Patsy Pipkin is a freelance writer, columnist, and author. She lives in Searcy, Arkansas.