A month ago we announced Letters to Each Other, which allowed subscribers to Letters in the Mail to send a one page letter and SASE. We would copy the letters and send each writers six letters back in their self addressed stamped envelope. We asked the letter writers to send their letters to Karen’s house. 296 people participated and last night we had a party in a bar where we stuffed all the envelopes and mailed the letters. But first Karen read them all.
***
Dear letter writers,
You have been coming to my house for weeks now, in trickles at first and then in floods as the deadline got closer. My mailman must be so confused; it’s been all Cooking Light and utility bills until now.
I took the first five of you to a coffee shop, and I fell in love with you at once. You were raw, and it all felt a little sacred, getting a little piece of you sent so hopefully, two pages or less. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all week.
I don’t know if it’s just that you were my first loves, but the first five of you were my favorites.
And then more of you showed up, 296 of you, and I found myself wanting to cherry pick six letters to “receive,” just so I could have you as a pen pal; Mr. Wales, guy from Tennessee, lady from Portland. But then it didn’t feel right, like hand picking kids in gym class for a dodgeball team; my team of pen pals. So, instead, I thought I’d write to all of you.
I want to tell you a few things; things about each other, things about what you 296 decided to tell six perfect strangers.
Many of your letters were about letter writing; about the last time you wrote a letter, about the state of civilization because people don’t write letters anymore. There were some breakups in the bunch; some recent, some long rotting. Lots of illustrations, job dissatisfaction, loneliness. Many Seinfeld letters; letters about nothing in particular – a subway ride, the weather, doing your laundry. And a lot of meta-commentary, self-conscious “I bet you think this letter sucks” kind of comments. Hey, Wisconsin, your letter didn’t suck. In fact, it was one of my favorites.
There were letters clearly plotted, and others that meandered to their finish, down one side street and then the other, often surprised when you reached your destination, commenting that you didn’t know where you were going when you started. A lot of extra notes tucked into your envelopes thanking The Rumpus for doing this (you are so welcome, the pleasure is truly all ours).
About ten percent of you poured your hearts out; and I’d like to give you 10% a hug, a big, big hug.
And then there were those of you whispered. You started out all Seinfeld-like, and then, somewhere between how much you hate your job and love your dog, you said something really deep. You seemed to sit somewhere between wanting to say it and being afraid that if you said it too loudly you might not get a letter back – so you whispered it.
And what I’m saying to you who are reading those letters is – listen. You’ll hear it.
He will tell you about his girlfriend’s late night shifts and how he doesn’t like to be home alone. And then he’ll whisper, this is because his mom had clinical depression when he was growing up and she slept all the time, sometimes for months. And then he’s back talking about his job. And it will stop you. And you will know that’s why he wrote this letter.
You’ll be reading about his grandma, a second-grade teacher with a basement lined with books. And then he’ll say, as if in parentheses, that this served as his refuge from childhood trauma that his grandmother knew nothing about. And then, just as quickly, he’ll move on to the weather. And for a moment you might not breathe.
She will be talking about a trip to Texas to visit a daughter and casually mention that her family moved 80 times growing up because her father was a criminal (and sometimes they just didn’t take their things with them). And within a matter of words she will move on to tell you about her college experience.
Listen, okay?
Most of all, what you said is that you want someone to write back. I don’t know if we allow all caps here at The Rumpus, but if we do I would say PLEASE WRITE EACH OTHER BACK. Please.
But if your hoped for pen pal doesn’t write, I want you to know that Stephan in Kansas works the night shift, and Susannah has a husband with dementia to take care of, and Jeff, he hasn’t been able to get out of bed in months. So, what I’m saying is that, if you don’t get a response, it probably isn’t you; your letter was fine.
***
I told myself I would go to bed on time tonight; but I couldn’t stop reading your letters. They seemed so much more important than sleep.
You are from everywhere – I mean everywhere, most of the United States and a handful of other countries. How did you all find out about The Rumpus? Especially you, 76-year old grandmother who doesn’t have a computer, how did you find The Rumpus?
One of you is a proofreader for a locally owned phone book. What is a locally owned phone book? And how does one edit it? I want to know.
To the social worker in Minnesota, the only advocate in your county for victims of domestic violence – $11.28 an hour; really? I will try not to resent the politicians in your county who hired only one of you, and then put an $11.28 price tag on preventing domestic violence.
There is a letter about a Rubbermaid container in someone’s closet that made me cry; it made me miss my father, even though he’s still alive.
There are a surprising number of you from Illinois. Not Chicago, just Illinois. Why?
Letter writer in jail for capital murder, did you get parole or did you get transferred to the adult system? Yours was one of the first letters I read; it took my breath away. I hope you write that book. I’d read it.
***
I don’t even know how to mail a letter from my house; we don’t have an outgoing mail slot in our building. Which probably means I haven’t mailed anything since last May when I moved in. And it means there are letters that have gone unwritten; letters I may never send, even if I can find that mailbox; letters like these.
Dear sweet girl: I love you; 16 won’t last forever. Some day you won’t have to live with an angry man. I need you to know it’s not you, sweetie, it’s him.
Dear dad: Every time I think about the fact that some day I will log on and not see your name in my G’chat, I wonder how does the day after look, the day after your name disappears from my G’chat?
Dear first love: Sometimes I still miss you. We would have been miserable together. But, still, I’ve never loved like that, and I’ve never been loved like that since. Sometimes that worries me.
Dear neighbors who live above me: My living room shakes every time you have sex, I mean literally shakes. FYI, guy who’s making it shake, it’s not a race; enjoy the journey. Don’t make me come up there and give you tips.
Dear headquarters of the religion I used to belong to: Leaving you was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I don’t hate you; you’ll always be part of me. But, three years later, I’ve never been happier.
And dear you, Wales, Washington, Virginia, Australia, San Francisco, New York, Arizona, Utah, Connecticut, the UK (etc.) – thanks for stopping by. I’ll miss you.
Love,
Karen
P.S. Write each other back, ‘kay?
P.P.S. All the names I used in here, I made them up. Your secret is safe with me (and the other six people who read your letter).
LTEO in sum:
The many different ways you asked each other to write back:
- I hope that you will write me back despite the facts that I am young and self-involved and not great at letter writing. Because the potential payoff is that we become friends which is almost magic.
- Maybe I’ll hear from strangers. Advice? Ideas? Thanks for listening. Let’s keep in touch.
- Please feel welcome to write – I cannot overstress the pleasure of giving and receiving mail, especially from strangers.
- If you care to write another letter, please drop me a few lines.
- I’d love to hear back from you, and I promise I’ll write back.
- Thanks for listening / reading and feel free to write back if you want.
- I would be delighted to hear back from you!
- I hope that you enjoyed my story, and I would love to hear back from you, should you be so inspired.
- You should write me back and tell me some things.
- You fascinate me. I can’t wait to hear all about it.
- I really would like you to write me back, so I guess I should try to be enticing in that regard
- Write to me. We can say whatever we want to. It will be fun.
Your uncertainty about your letter:
- I feel self-conscious writing this letter, not knowing you at all.
- I’m sorry if my letter may not have been as interesting as you had hoped.
- I’m concerned that the anonymous reader of this letter has already checked out because of my yuppie drinking habits.
- I’m writing a letter to strangers… and I feel pressure to be creative, witty, intelligent and engaging.
- The above was a digression that I now question including as I’m not sure it was even that interesting to me.
- I’ll admit that part of me is nervous about what exactly to write to relative strangers.
- I am self-conscious enough to feel a bit anxious about being mocked by you; I hope you don’t do that.
A few ways you opened your letters:
- Hello Bob or Brigitte or Henry or Sally
- Dear thoughtful reader
- Dear stranger and sharer of internal abyss
- Hi reader
- Dear Rumpus Letter Reader
- Dear… um… you
- Dear you
- Dearest You
- Hello Rumpus Club Members
- Hi
- Dear LTEO subscribers
- Hey Dude Lady Dog
- Dear fellow Letters in the Mail participant
- Dear fellow earthling
- Dear mysterious stranger
- Well hi there!
- Hello out there to somebody
- Dear Fellow Rumpusite
A few ways you closed them:
- Be well
- Yours
- Yours very truly
- Stay busy and consume bitter stuff
- Sincerely
- I’ll close by saying I don’t mind weirdos, just no psychopathic ones
- Thank you for reading
- I will say good night now, dear person
- It is nice to make your acquaintance
- Sincerest warm regards to you and your loved ones
- Mwah!
- Warmth across the miles
- Yours ‘til Niagara Falls
- Yours in curiosity
- With love and respect
- Yours in the midwest
- Amor Fati
- xo
48 responses
E-mail is to letter as Tweet is to War And Peace.
Love, love, love this. And have been loving the letters I’ve been getting in response to my Letter in the Mail last week. Thanks for compiling this!
Oh this is awesome. Thanks Karen & Rumpus!
I am all regrets. I meant to write a letter, and kept putting it off. Then I wrote one, by hand, and it sat on my desk for a couple of days until I found two envelopes. Then I bought stamps. Almost done. Then Stephen’s deadline email came, but it was the weekend, and I was deliberately avoiding my computer, and by the time I got back to my desk it was too late. I pray this is not a larger metaphor.
Last night I got the opportunity to read exactly one LTEO, an illustrated beauty that kind of broke my heart. And I regretted that I didn’t participate in Letters To Each Other! (I regret it even more after reading this lovely essay.) Oh well, hopefully I’ll get some responses to my Letter In the Mail. I’ve special ordered some postcards so I can respond to my responders.
Claire, your letter was so so so beautiful. I’ve been carrying it with me the last week plus. Thank you.
“I feel self-conscious writing this letter, not knowing you at all.”
i’m pretty sure that was from my letter, which i re-read repeatedly and felt stupid about. i was so afraid to be truly honest about my life, so i mentioned the thing that most terrifies me as if it were a casual thing, NBD. then i changed the subject, iirc.
i wanted so badly to rewrite and be eloquent or interesting or at least cohesive, but my hand hurt and it was the last day to send. i so loved this idea and so wanted to be part of it, despite the possibility of 6 people thinking i’m a moron.
it’s a relief that others felt similarly. thank you.
Karen, I can’t tell you how excited you’ve made me by writing this piece. What an enviable place to be in, and no wonder you couldn’t sleep. 296 pages of real people writing real things, fake things, personal things — I would have stayed up all night and the next day reading if I’d had those pages in front of me. I would have called in sick at my job — fuck work! I’ve got letters to read, I’d have said.
Really, I sent my letter however long ago and had by now pretty much forgotten all about it. Nothing is real until it’s right in front of me, and all that. But now I’m excited. Real excited. Thanks for writing, everybody, and especially those six writers I’ll be lucky enough to read. And you, Karen, whoever you are who read my letter — thanks.
Karen, thank you so much for taking the time and putting your energy into reading all of these many letters…and most of all thank you for this beautiful letter in reply. Be well 🙂
I confess that, as one of the letter writers, I was nervously reading to see if you mentioned me in some way. I was trying to prepare myself not to feel disappointed if you didn’t — you couldn’t mention everyone, of course — but you did. And I am happy, unreasonably so, in the same way I’m unreasonably proud that my blood pressure is 112/78, my most reliable number. Thank you for your generous reading of all those letters! I can’t wait to get my fat envelope.
Thank you Karen for reading all the letters and for sharing your time with the mail… sounds like the best thing going. I wonder if the post office will feel the blip of 296 real letters in the mail all at once? Hope so.
I am being plagued with doubt that I used an insufficient stamp on my SASE. Hopefully hopefully.
Thanks so much again for making this happen, I think it is beautiful.
Now I am very, very sad that I did not write a letter.
Great essay, Karen! I’m excited to have participated. Letters are an awesome thing, and I hope some people write me. I’m going to write to more of the writers who sent the weekly letters.
thanks for reading them all–
Patricia
I’m the proofreader for the locally owned phone book. It’s not really editing-I send out proofs to our advertisers, making sure their ad & all their info (phone #, addresses, web site, etc) is correct and make changes when needed. When the pub date is about 2 weeks away, I get a copy of the phone book and I read all the white pages to make sure there are the appropriate number of dots between names and phone #’s, the tell-tales are correct (tell-tales are the first and last names on that page at the top of each page-does that make sense?) and everything looks ok. LLC should be in all caps, Violent is probably a typo & should be Violet, zip codes are correct. Stuff like that. Then I get to read all the yellow pages and compare what’s in the book to the client’s signed proof sheet & make sure the ads are the same in color, size, content. We’re an independent company & only publish 2 phone books. Contrary to popular belief, phone books in our area are not going away- we’re pretty rural & internet service is spotty. And our paper is 40% recycled post-consumer content and 60% waste wood chips from sawmills. So there’s that.
Ever since I licked that envelope I’ve been terrified that I won’t get a letter back since I wrote my letter on a page of the New Yorker in black permanent marker and my street may be impossible to read in a photocopy, so thank you Karen – I loved your letter and it was a perfect letter in return. If only it could have arrived in my little steel mailbox.
If you get my letter and want to write me back but can’t read my street address post up here and I’ll send you my address. If you get. If you get me letter and don’t want to write back that’s ok too.
=Ryan
Greetings,I got to spend several hours helping my sis’ Karen copy your numerous letters! The sampling I was able to read created a stirring in me to be kinder to those around me; for we all carry around something we wish we could share…and that you did and I’ve been blessed! Best, Beh
I can’t believe I let this rare opportunity pass me by. I am sad for the letters I won’t be receiving. Please do this again!
Thanks, Rumpus, for making this letter exchange possible. And thanks to Karen for reading all those letters! I can’t believe you did that.
I hope I get a letter back. I’m afraid I tried too hard.
Let’s have a second round, maybe in six months or a year from now? Because no matter how often we write to one another from now on, those letters won’t be letters to strangers.
Ryan — I helped Karen with the copying of the letters. Never fear, your address was legible, and your letter was lovely.
To the rest of you, in copying your letters I caught glimpses of your words, stopped the line at Kinko’s to read some. Every one was brave, even when it was not. The experience made me consider intimacy in a whole new way. Thanks, y’all. I second: please write back.
I have so many unwritten and unsent letters, unsent packages, piling up everywhere.
I keep wanting to send them and then finding something else to do. That’s the great tragedy of our lives. :/
My letters came today! They are all beautiful. Thank you thank you thank you.
Letter writer in jail for capital murder: I got out my pen and paper to write you back, but you didn’t put an address in your letter. If you see this, send me an email at bruisedknees@gmail.com with your address.
Thank you, Nathan! That’s so nice to hear!
I didn’t see this good stuff until today. As so often happens, I missed this window of opportunity all over the place. I know it’s not the same (I know it’s not the same!) but if there are any other perpetual missers-of-windows (and it kind of looked like there might be one or two), who would want to send their address to a stranger on the internet, maybe we stragglers could do an email exchange of mailing addresses and still get at the heart of the initiative: a letter or two. I would be willing.
Today a letter recipient found me on the internet, because I wrote my letter at three in the morning and stupidly didn’t even consider the fact of putting in my mailing address.
She made me cry with her response to me, because today was just _hard_, man, and I needed a kindness from a stranger.
This is a miracle project, I can feel it. The ripples have only just started. Thank you so much for treating our letters like precious things. Thank you for Regarding us, every one of you, from the person that came up with the spark of the idea to those that wrangled photocopies into envelopes.
I’m so excited! I received my letters today! I’ve only read two, so far, but they were lovely. I have been racking my brain trying to remember what I even wrote! Oh well, c’est la vie!
Thank you Karen and the Rumpus for this exciting experiment!!
i didn’t know this was happening! yes i do live under a rock. well, not really, but the kids sometimes sit on me. please do it again, i would love to write a letter & receive any! also i don’t want the post office to go out of business so how awesome is this? for so many reasons. real letters.
Yes! Received six letters in the mail today. I feel like I’m back in the 90s. Of course, I was only ten years old when the 90s ended, but I had a pen pal then and I look forward to having some now. Feel free to e-mail me at leira450@gmail.com if you want to exchange addresses (but only to write to each other, not to murder me, thanks in advance).
Finally, they arrived! I ripped into the envelope with the nervous anticipation akin to a first meet-n-greet with someone you met in an online dating site. I devoured their words and illustrations … so telling of their realities, their pasts, their futures, their hopes, their fears, their loves, their losses … it was rapture!! Six uniquely divine souls just entered my life … how freakin’ blessed am I ?!?!? Thank you Rumpus for your amazing insight and effort that brought this “gift” into the lives of many a thoughtful writer and reader.
YAY!!! I got my letters today and nearly cried. I’ll be writing back all 5 who gave return addresses. The letters restored my faith in our country, and touched my heart. What a wonderful project, thanks to the Rumpus folk who made it possible!
Got mine. One from someone I already know and love, four from new friends, one from a woman who wanted to stay anonymous, although I wish she didn’t because I’ve been on the other side of her exact situation and so maybe I could talk about what I know about the questions she asked, but nobody can sign their name and address to everything they want to confess. C in New England? Say hi some time.
This is really pretty fucking cool.
Love, love, love the letters! Thank you for doing this. It reminds me of being a little kid in the ’70s.
Stephen and Karen, and all the letter writers. Thank you for giving your time. Facebook has nothing on Letters to Each Other. Every one of my six was a gem, a window into another’s thoughts, hopes, fears. I started my replies, today.
Being somewhat new to the parts of the Rumpus that are not Sugar, I was sorry to see that I had missed this. Ariel, I will send you my address and would love to write to you as well. And if anyone else would like to exchange those kinds of things you can email ninjacentric at gmail dot com. I also would prefer an exchange of the written word to any type of physical violence.
I JUST got my letters last night. I was away for the week, cleaning out boxes at my childhood home. As I was going through old letters received, LTEO was frequently on my mind. I was so excited to return to MAIL from a real PERSON. I got picked up at the train station, dropped the bags at home, scooped up the letters and read them over dinner. I’ll be working on replies, but I wanted to add my thanks to the Rumpus, thanks to Karen, thanks to the letter stuffers, thanks to the Writers, and thanks to the six random people who received my letter. Thanks for putting yourselves out there with me 🙂
Don’t take this the wrong way, LTEO, because I think you’re great and all, and I really loved taking part in this, but I’m flummoxed by all six of my letters. I don’t know really why; they’re fine letters and the people seem interesting. I just don’t think I’m the person they were writing to, don’t think I could be that person. I don’t know how to answer them.
I felt like all six of my letters were perfect, like they had been chosen for me. Did someone decide who gets what? Did the same people whose letter I got receive my letter? They were all amazing people & they were all worried about the same things I am…
Thanks. I can’t wait to write back.
To the letter writer, a staff/state attorney in Virginia, you wrote on May 4th that you’ll be quitting your job, moving in with a friend in Arlington, picking up a waitress job (“never done it, always felt like I was missing out”), and devoting yourself to writing. You didn’t leave a name or return address, but asked for luck. I’m wishing you luck – do it.
This has been amazing, in my opinion. I hope we get the change to do it again. Thank you to all involved in writin the letters and getting them to us!
I received a letter from Liz Wyckoff in Austin, Texas that I would like to respond to…but her address was cut off. Any help getting in contact with her or getting her address would be appreciated greatly. THanks.
I wrote a letter at work instead of doing case notes. I was so nervous to share, but I did it anyway. My handwritting looked weird, I’d almost forgotten what it looked like…a full page of it. Sadly, in my rush to get home for the weekend, I left my letter on my desk and missed the deadline. I guess I could have sent it, but I didn’t. I keep it in my binder of Rumpus Letters. If given the opportunity again I will send it.
I did it! I wrote back to all of my letters!
Oh! Oh! Oh! My beautiful, breathtaking, heartbreaking, perfect letters came today. Did you really read each letter and hand pick them just for me? If not you, then wizards, certainly. Thank you for this touching thing, this contagious, sympathetic magic.
Disappointed that no one replied to my letters that were sent to 6 strangers, maybe I didn’t tell enough about myself. But I wrote back to all six letters that I received. Now I am in correspondence with three diverse people.
I’m STILL working on replies to first batch, it’s actually why I didn’t join the second round. Life got away from me, and I wanted to give each reply clear/undivided attention. I don’t think I got one of yours, Rita, but maybe others are on the same turtle’s pace I’m on… I am committed to replying to everyone.
Please do this again! I am so bummed to have missed the second round.
Please tell me that there will be another chance to participate. I love to write letters and feel like I have stumbled into a group of amazing people.
Breath taken away. Thank you for this gift. Magic. Like peeking between phyllo-dough layers of world and discovering where the beauty is hidden. Wow.
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