A few weeks ago, I wrote about a project I’ve dubbed “The Late, Great Letter Revival.” The purpose is to encourage people to write letters, something I consider a disappearing art. I’m speaking of old-fashioned mail, the kind requiring an envelope, stamp, and postal box. So far, I’ve received a couple of dozen letters, and the process has been a pleasure and an education.

I have learned that there are still a great number of letter writers out there. And they will remain letter writers as long as they have the strength to put words on paper and stamps on envelopes. Sending and receiving letters is an integral part of their lives, and the pleasure and joy it brings them is irreplaceable.

I have learned that our lives are bookmarked by letters. Births, deaths, new loves, old loves, the separation of miles and time. Shoeboxes stow tight bundles of letters with aging postmarks that, when looked upon as a body of work, tell life stories. One writer has left instructions that when she is no longer around, her attic full of the letters she has received over the decades be returned to the senders, so that they might enjoy a time capsule of their own lives.

I have learned that a timely letter from a coveted sender can induce euphoria. A letter so welcome that you rip open the envelope straight from the mailbox and consume it on the walk back to the house. Or so satisfying that you refuse to take it inside before you have enjoyed it a second and third time in the comfort of your front porch swing.

Some people prefer letters. Others prefer notes. Some make their own paper, note cards, or envelopes. Some include drawings. Others share their poetry or philosophy. They are firm believers of using letters and notes to convey emotions and thoughts: congratulations, thankfulness, get well soon, or missing you. Or sometimes simply to catch up. To many, nothing can be suitably substituted for a handwritten piece of communication. Email doesn’t get a second thought.

And here’s something I didn’t expect but makes perfect sense. Most of my writers mourn the demise of cursive writing. One writer wondered how future generations would be able to enjoy our country’s historical documents without an understanding of cursive. Another was amazed that her grandchild’s mother had to read what she had written to him in a birthday card.

At some point in the writing of their letters, it dawns on the writer that the process of putting pen to paper has been a freeing experience, exhilarating at times, and that the journey was a good one, and, in many cases, long overdue. Letters allow for introspection, for time travel, for remembering people and events too long forgotten. When I answer the letters, on one of my vintage Smith-Coronas, I let the recipient know that the feeling and experience is mutual.

Finally, I have learned that we are endowed by our Higher Power with the prospect of hope, positivity, and optimism, should we set aside the busy, complicated world long enough to plumb for those gifts. In the very first letter that found its way to my post office box, the writer shared that her mother had died while giving birth to her prematurely. Her father was unmoved by his wife’s death or the birth of his daughter, and she had to be taken in that evening by her mother’s sister and her husband. Weighing under two pounds, she spent her first night in a glove box extracted from an antique dresser, lying between her two new caregivers, who went out the next day and bought the things necessary to nurture an infant whom they had not anticipated having to raise.

Over the years she has experienced more than her share of trials, most recently assisting her husband through the aftermath of a horrific traffic accident, one that has taken two years to struggle past. Yet the phrase that began the letter and permeated each page was “I was extremely blessed from birth until today.” These stories make a letter a gift.

I would like to believe that The Late, Great Letter Revival is just getting started. I would like to think that there are many stories yet to be told in many letters yet to be written. If you believe that as well, send your letters to: Doug Gray, c/o The Late, Great Letter Revival, P.O. Box 994, Fayetteville, TN 37334.

Doug Gray is a freelance writer and columnist who lives in Fayetteville, Tennessee.