Last week’s letter (we are the well into the 11th year of a weekly note to Ellen) never made it to a door side mailbox before it was read. Reid opened his within minutes of the email attachment arriving at his London office, and Ellen read the post days before her letter arrived by postal delivery in St. Paul.
The habit-practice-compulsion (it is whatever you wish to call it) just keeps rolling along. It has its own energy and sense of momentum.
But it consists of the energy of one. Momentum-less is the original dream: prod non-letter writers (parents in particular) to adopt regular letters as a legitimate low-tech means to simply stay in touch with their kids. The sense here is almost no progress has been made to move even a small number of people from Point A to Point L (letters). That failure is a super-duper-sized elephant in the room. Case in point: subscribership remains low. I’m not reaching parents at the logical separation point when kids flee for college and the nest is suddenly empty. That’s when writing a letter might seem to be a viable thing. The dream, it turns out, is nothing more than a pipe dream.
Other factors may be at work. My blog itself could be suspect or ill-created/managed/promoted or worse yet, just flat-out uninteresting. Likely on those counts and others. Maybe the forest is too close and I can’t see through all those infernal trees. But I wouldn’t label this as a wholesale rant or whine. Instead, it’s recognition that the formula isn’t working. One thing for sure, I’ll keep trying. Someday the light will come on and I’ll spring forward with an approach that is more viable.
So the blog remains essentially a running, public diary of correspondence between me and my two. Maybe that is enough.
This morning’s letter to Ellen and Reid is freshly minted and won’t be posted until next week. The same-week release of last week’s letter on the excursion to the Bridger Wilderness in Wyoming used up whatever free pass I had on that score.