I admit it, freely and wholly. I am a defender of the epistolary tradition. I LOVE writing cards and letters. In fact, I think “love” is too gentle a word for it. I cannot find a term for someone obsessed with writing letters. The closest I can come to it is graphomania,  [grapho-] (Greek) meaning ‘to write’. Just early this morning, I had my husband post a packet of close to ten, if not more, cards and letters for me so they would be sure to go out in the mail today. And, now, my fingers itch to write even more. I keep having names pop into my head of people whom I haven’t spoken to or heard from in a while and, with them, the urge to write a note. I try to be mindful of these urgings, because I never know what that person may be going through or if they could just use a smile and a surprise in their mailbox.

A friend of mine commented that she should hired me as her personal correspondent. I should think that I would like to be someone’s personal secretary, though, as I think about it, it would require a great deal of trust on the employer’s part, as your secretary becomes privy to all your personal business. It also requires said secretary to be a veritable strongbox of secrets and confidences. But I should think that I would enjoy it; learning someone’s voice, putting their heart down on paper, even if it is in my own “hand”. I would have made a very good secretary in the old style, though I have no ambition for power. The mere joy and privilege of being able to read and write and interpret would have been adventure enough for me.

I wish personal secretary was still an option for a career in this day and age. *sighs wistfully*