Women of a certain mature age carry a quiet archive of courtesies – small, beautiful habits that once stitched communities together. We learned them from mothers and grandmothers who believed that kindness wasn’t something you felt, it was something you did.
When Handwritten Letters Were All We Had
In my closet sit two hat boxes filled with handwritten notes. Real mail. Stamps, envelopes, ink smudges, the whole thing. I used to wait for letters the way kids now wait for text notifications. And to this day, nothing delights me more than opening my mailbox and finding a handwritten note tucked between the bills.
I remember choosing stationery like one chooses a gift – carefully, thoughtfully, imagining the smile on the recipient’s face. A handwritten note takes time, and that’s precisely why it matters. It says, I paused my busy life to think of you.
Inside those hat boxes are treasures:
- My grandparents’ handwriting, with Grandma Norma calling me her “precious angel #1.”
- Letters from my freshman-year girlfriends from our MAWA dorm, written during a summer when email didn’t exist and long-distance calls were a luxury.
- Air mail from my Austrian pen pal, thin blue paper that crossed an ocean to reach me.
These aren’t scraps of paper. They’re proof of connection. Proof that someone cared enough to sit down, pick up a pen, and send a piece of themselves.
Thank You Notes – Gratitude in Writing
And then there’s the cousin to the handwritten letter: the thank-you note.
A lost art, if ever there was one.
We were taught – by mothers who knew the value of gratitude – that when someone shows you kindness, you acknowledge it. You write the note. You send the thanks. You close the loop. I taught my daughter the same, because gratitude is a muscle, and it needs exercise.
What Else Have We Put Behind?
But it’s not just letters and thank-yous that have faded. There was a time when:
- You returned borrowed dishes full, not empty.
- You returned a borrowed car with a full tank of gas.
- You brought a hostess gift when invited to someone’s home.
- You welcomed new neighbors with cookies or a casserole.
- You held doors open.
- You gave up your seat to someone older, pregnant, or juggling toddlers.
- You removed your hat indoors.
- You stood when someone entered the room.
These weren’t rules. They were respect made visible.
Passing the Torch
When my family visited Disney last November, I was stunned by how few people offered seats on the shuttle to elderly riders or exhausted parents with little ones. And when someone did offer a seat, the lack of a simple “thank you” was just as shocking.
Courtesy used to be the social glue that kept us from bumping too hard into each other. Now it feels like we’re all elbows.
But here’s the hopeful part:
Not all of this is gone.
Every now and then, I see a young person hold a door, write a note, or show up with a casserole, and my heart lifts. Someone taught them. Someone passed the torch.
And that’s the point, isn’t it?
These courtesies survive only if we hand them down.
So, if you know a younger person who simply hasn’t been taught – teach them. Show them the beauty of a handwritten note, the grace of a thank-you, the quiet dignity of good manners.
Imagine the ripple effect if each of us passed along even one of these small acts of kindness.
Imagine the shift in the world if courtesy made a comeback.
Wouldn’t that be something.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
What small courtesies were you taught that you still do today? Which ones have you forgotten out of convenience? Have you taught your children the value of a thank you note?
