I am afraid I don't have any membership cards, buttons, logos or mottos to share with you today. Life will intervene in my plans for blogging fun. But the dream lives in my imagination and I feel certain the Communist Ladies' Aid Society will be more visible in the near future.
I've written two letters this week, however, and I took great delight in sealing the envelopes and sending them off in the mail. At the little old house we don't have an actual mailbox so every occasion for mail is an Event. I have to drive the few miles into tiny town and go into the post office (built in the Eisenhower era - I know this because there is a brass plaque on the wall near the door - and fondly maintained in proper style. It amuses me to think that this is the hub of the Communist Ladies Aid Society. Life is full of little ironies like that.) They know me by my first name there and I suspect they are a little curious about all the letters that arrive in my tiny box.
It was delightful to hear from so many that you were inspired to write after last week's post. I hope you made time to sit down and send off a note or a postcard or a deliciously long letter to someone in your life. My eleven year old son watched me writing a letter and shook his head puzzled over how I could possibly find anything to say after "Hi. How are you? I'm fine." I told him the truth: sometimes it is hard to think of something to write, but if you sit quietly for a moment and think of the other person sitting across from you; if you imagine their lives and their hearts and the things they might be doing right now at this very moment, you can usually come up with something to say or ask. And if not, you can always start with describing the view from your chair; how the morning feels to you, or the evening; what small hope or fear or dream is filling your thoughts just now.
In the introduction to a compilation of women's letters, I found this:
"...women's letters talk. They are monologues, dialogues, diatribes: They are voices fixed on paper. Like women talking over the back fence, the telephone, the breakfast plates, or the business lunch, women's letters rarely just exchange information. Instead they tell stories; they tell secrets; they shout and scold,...whisper and worry, console and advise, gossip and argue, compete and compare. And along the way, they - usually without meaning to - write history."
Now, dear friends, won't you make some time this week to get out your pen and paper and write some history?
Lord willing and the cows come home, I'll have something fun for you next week.