The following column is the opinion and analysis of the writer.
In March my husband took me to the amazing Grand Canyon for my birthday. We moved to Tucson from Baltimore last July, and I wanted to see the canyon before it got too hot and crowded. We spent a wonderful few days at the South Rim, just before life dramatically changed when the COVID restrictions went into effect on March 20.
As a retiree, it was not as big of a challenge for me as for those still working and raising children. Miles of distance from children and grandchildren already separated us. Face Time will have to continue to suffice until the next visit east.
On social media, friends were announcing their COVID-19 projects. Some were making masks; I was never good at sewing. Some were quilting and others were purging, á la Marie Kondo. I had just done that when moving from my home in Maryland, where I had lived since 1990.
As a writer, I decided to do what I like best. I began a snail mail project with a goal of writing 100 letters. Who doesn’t like to find an old fashioned handwritten letter in the mailbox instead of a bill or junk mail? One day, when I was more than halfway to my goal, I read an op-ed in The Baltimore Sun by Courtney Jenkins, a postal worker (“Don’t forget the postal workers during the corona virus pandemic”). Jenkins seeks support of the United States Postal Service, under threat of privatization. After corresponding briefly with Jenkins about my COVID-19 snail-mail project, she told me USPS encourages pen pal writing. So now I was cheering up people under confinement and supporting the post office as well. A win-win.
I always liked writing and getting letters. My Baltimore friends kept in touch with me during the years I lived in New England and later, the Netherlands. Friends from Connecticut and the Netherlands and I sent many letters through the mail before the advent of the internet. We graduated to typed letters using word processing, and then to email. Those were different times, but so are the current times.
I received some responses to my letters; handwritten, typed, email and text. But why stop at 100? I kept going, writing not just to good friends and family, but cousins three and four times removed, acquaintances, former colleagues, Maryland neighbors and new ones. The response has been overwhelmingly positive.
Since I can’t go to Maryland, I continue to write and have yet to run out of people to write to. Our restrictions have decreased a bit, but our planned trip to Baltimore has been cancelled. I lament the loss of my much-anticipated summer time there. I can only wait until the coast is clear in Maryland.
If I have to be stuck, Tucson is a great place for it; a hikers’ and cyclists’ paradise with beautiful state and national parks and a network of bike trails second to none in the country. There is always something to write about as we learn about life in the desert, especially during spring. With the help of new friends and social media, I am learning about gardening in the desert. I’ve seen cactus produce unbelievably beautiful flowers, snakes come out of hibernation and we are learning how to coexist with all the wildlife new to us.
And so while we learn, we wait. But while we wait, I write. Like the old AT&T long distance commercials on television used to say, “Reach out and touch someone.” That’s my contribution to living through these crazy times. Who doesn’t like to hear: “You’ve Got Mail?”
