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Monday, September 23, 2013

Pan Pals

     I just read an article about two ladies, pen pals for 55 years, who finally met each other in person.  What a thrill that must have been.  http://www.today.com/news/meant-be-after-55-years-pen-pals-bond-real-life-4B11203300
     Having pen pals is good for kids in so many ways.  Letter writing helps them organize their thoughts, work on composition skills, and hone spelling, punctuation, and grammar. They can also learn social skills and ettiquette from letter writing.  Using the post office instead of email teaches patience.  That's a very good thing.
     I had a bunch of pen pals.  I was probably about eleven when I started writing to other kids.   The practice carried over into high school, but didn't continue past junior year.  At first, I got the names of pen pals (and they got my name) from a magazine published by the Pioneer Girls organization.  http://www.vintagekidstuff.com/pioneergirl/pioneergirl.html
     Pioneer Girls was a churchy version of Girl Scouts.  They met at Easton Union Church on Friday nights.  Our meetings were a lot like a Sunday School class.  They included Bible study and working on badges.  Pioneer Girls taught me how to embroider, hem a skirt, make a camp fire, and perform Phillipine Tinikling dancing.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWqCBbJtMZk   Additionally, each girl was paired with an adult woman from the church.  This older mentor was a "pal" and  the young lady was a "gal."  My pal gave me a subscription to the organization's magazine.  I think it was called "Trails."  Readers who wanted to correspond with other girls listed their names in the magazine.
     My first pen pal was a girl from a distant land - Moorestown, New Jersey.  After the first letter, we talked on the phone after school.  Another girl named Pam lived in Niagara Falls, New York.  With her letter, she enclosed a picture of herself, her little sister, and her mother dressed up for church on Easter morning.  As I composed my response, I read it out loud to my parents.
     I wrote, "I like your picture.  You look cute."
     My father commented, "You can also tell her that her mother is cute."
     So I wrote, "My father says your mother is cute."
     That was the last time I heard from Pam.
     Another letter writing buddy lived in Minneapolis, Minnosota.  I can remember both her first and last names, so I Googled her.  She still has the same last name and she still lives in Minneapolis.  My sleuthing tells me she is a teacher.  I'm wondering if I should send her a note.
     I branched out to having a boy pen pal when I reached high school.  He was from India and was enrolled at the Indian version of West Point.  Besides letters, I also received bangle bracelets and a brightly colored tunic.

Here's the tunic repurposed as mini dress.  Damn, Kerry Kovacs, you look so hot.

        Pen pals aren't just for kids.  Writing or sending care packages to a soldier serving overseas would be a nice thing to do.  I saw a website set up to promote writing to prison inmates.  I'm all for spreading around the milk of human kindness and being a model of Christian charity, but Happy in Hainesport says, "Don't do that."   
     
   

3 comments:

  1. I believe you also had a pen pal in Maine, because the two of you introduced me to my pen pal, who lived in the same Maine town. I no longer have any of her letters, but I remember her writing to me in October and they were already getting snow. I also remember her writing about her music teacher, who was named Mr. Dotten. None of the children cared for him, so he was christened Rotten Dotten. Thanks for bringing these old memories back. And you're right, Kerry does look hot, surrounded by his harem.

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  2. Rotten Dotten. That's funny. What was the name of Hainesport's music teacher before Mrs. Miller and Mr. Eleuteri? Mr. O'Donald? He was Rotten Dotten's brother, I think.

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  3. I liked the story but loved the picture. All us old folks remember Pen Pals but along with other forms of communication that required pen and paper, just memories now.

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