When I was in elementary school, one of my teachers partnered with a school somewhere across the world, and we were given the opportunity to become pen pals with students in the other school. I don’t remember where in the world the other school was, but I do remember my joy when I received letters in the mail with my name on them, and the moments I shut myself away in my bedroom to handwrite my responses.
For the youngins who may not know: A pen pal is someone you regularly write letters or messages to, usually someone you don’t know in person. People often have pen pals in other cities, countries, or even continents, and the purpose is to make a friendship, learn about another culture, or practice language skills.
I still like writing letters. The problem is, not many people are inclined to write back. They are now prone to digital communication, to inform by post and text speak, to share with the masses more than one-on-one. But just as the art of letter-writing seems lost, like the use of manual typewriters, it resurges.
As a remote worker in the middle of nowhere, with minimal reason to leave the farm often, I know from experience that I will eventually crave more connection. I have long phone conversations with friends and family on a regular basis, but was thrilled to discover a social media group of women in the world seeking pen pals. One introductory post resulted in overwhelming interest, and now I have pen pals in five different states, most of them with ties to West Virginia somehow, or with similar interests.
I set up my letter-writing desk for activity again, stationery and cards brought out of dusty drawers, stickers and stamps sorted and primed for decoration. Letters come with pictures, bookmarks, stickers, and sayings, and I return with cards and clippings with quotes and insignificant trinkets that will fit inside the envelope without increasing the postage cost.
I have found it nostalgic and comforting. I’m learning about other places, other people, and am making connections. But recently, I also found that this answer to my search for human connection could also be the answer to another concern of mine.
As someone in the middle of nowhere with no real influence or power, just a single voice in the world, wondering what I can do about the current state of things, I came across a post that made a good point.
I follow an account @shabbycreekcottage who posts practical information for stretching a budget and household tips, who has expanded into small ways to protest. She recently posted a call for a mail storm. A postal protest, a peaceful uprising.
Did you know that every letter mailed to representatives must be scanned, sorted, and logged? They can delete emails and texts, and their answering systems can be overwhelmed (as we learned earlier this year). But mail? Must be dealt with. It accumulates if not.
I have now added our representatives to my pen pal list and will send a weekly letter to express my dismay at current events. I encourage you to join me. You don’t really even have to write a letter. Just send a postcard that says, “How can you just let this happen?” It has to be dealt with. Send a note that says, “Do your job.” Someone has to record that.
You could send recipes for Unicorn Poop cookies. You can send drawings or stickers, or shredded paper. You can print memes and send them in your envelope. You can write Bible verses about lying, adultery, and how to treat the less fortunate. (For our postal workers, avoid wax seals or glitter.) Don’t make threats or anything like that, but feel free to get creative.
Fun fact: You can make a lot of postcards by cutting up your old cereal boxes. As long as there’s a stamp on that sucker, it ships. (And no, you don’t have to use a return address. Put the representative’s address as the return address, so no matter what, it will eventually get there.)
And, if you happen to be one of those incomprehensible folks who think our leaders are doing a bang-up job — You might want to mail a letter of support. Because #projectmailstorm is taking off. As best I can tell, more than 35,000 people across the country are participating so far.
I find comfort in knowing that letters, postcards, and forwarded junk mail are gathering together in the rooms of our representatives, tiny written complaints accumulating into a giant pile that will, for the record, be catalogued.
Answering systems can be overwhelmed and crash. Digital comments and complaints are ephemeral and can be easily erased, deleted, or corrupted. But old-time snail mail? It all goes on record and can clog the system. I hope one day to learn how many letters are processed during this time.
Consider joining me. Make your representatives your pen pal. Such mail campaigns are part of our history. Civil Rights organizers overwhelmed Congress with mail. Other mail storms have influenced school boards, organizations, and even the FDA. Likely, they won’t write back, but as the input grows with each letter, the piles collected will become a representation of our discontent.
Snail mail is old-school. It’s uncool. I know it. Pen pals are for geeks and freaks and nerds. But not anymore. Your letters can be your protest. You don’t have to remain passive.
Here are the mailing addresses you need:
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW
Washington, DC, 20500
Shelly Moore Capito
170 Russell Senate Office Building
Washington, DC, 20510
Jim Justice
G12 Dirksen Senate Office Building
Washington, DC, 20510
Make snail mail cool again. Participate in #projectmailstorm.