Letters Home

College drop-offs, care packages, and the magic of handwritten notes.

Dang. The yardstick of time is showing my age. My social feed has shifted from first-day-of-school photos to more and more posts about friends dropping their kids off at college.

I’ve been there (with my oldest). It’s a moment of excitement, pride, hope, and heartbreak all wrapped together. Or, as our preschool director used to remind our kids (what feels like just yesterday), it’s OK to have happy and sad feelings at the same time. That’s life.

When I think back to my own sendoff, I remember my mom handing me a pack of stationery and telling me to write to loved ones. It doesn’t matter what you write about. Just take a few minutes a week to jot something down — about your day, your new friends, something you’re enjoying, anything — then put on a stamp and send it. Especially to your grandparents.

1996 (cursive and all): I didn't have to say much, but pretty sure it made my grandmother's day.

It was a different time. Most of us didn’t use email yet and texting + social media were still a long way off. I wasn’t great about writing regularly or with much detail (as demonstrated above), but every so often I’d sit down, scribble a note (in cursive, of course), and drop it in the mailbox. It always felt good. And there was nothing quite like the excitement of getting something in return (sometimes more than words depending on who was writing me back! 🤑).

Today, the convenience and immediacy of phones and social media have crowded out this once-special life routine. The slow ritual of writing something thoughtful and spontaneous, then sending it through the mail, replaced by instant chatting and high-volume meme sharing via text and DM groups (I’m as guilty as anyone here).

But here’s the thing: even in this digital world, kids (and I’m sure adults) crave analog moments too. A recent Pew survey found that nearly three-quarters of teens feel happier and more peaceful when they spend time away from their phones. Perhaps encouraging the practice of writing cards or letters — of being pen-pals with grandparents, family, and friends — will inspire a way to step away from the scroll and into something slower, more thoughtful, and real. Something tangible and truly special.

I’ve certainly been pulled deep into the digital world, and I try to not be completely beholden to it through my physical activities that force me to be away from my phone (being in the ocean / on the bike), and with a practice I call Thoughtful Thursday. Each week (at least that’s the goal), I carve out time to write thank-you notes or short messages to people in my life. It slows me down in this fast-paced world and helps me remember to acknowledge people who matter to me. I'm not perfect and miss many Thursdays, and haven't come close to sending notes to all the people who matter to me, but progress is more important than perfection!

Every so often, a reply comes back. And it still feels magical.

Now, as a parent who has sent one daughter off to college (with another still at home), I see the value of this even more clearly. I encourage my kids to write their own cards by periodically dropping a stack of Cruiser cards on their desk or slipping a few into their bag. Not with the expectation of them sending weekly handwritten notes, but to remind them...or at least open their eyes...to the notion that they have a feel-good option to unplugging/setting down their phone — to pause, reflect, and send a hand-written message out into the world.

And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll open my mailbox and find an envelope waiting — my kid’s handwriting on the front, with a glimpse into her world on the inside. 

If you want to give it a go, here are a few simple ways to start:

• Order a six-pack of Cruiser Cards. Or any kind of stationery if your kid isn't into waves/ SF.

• Share a little advice. Remind them it doesn’t matter what they write — about their day, new friends, something they’re enjoying, something they look forward to...anything.

• Slip a set into your kid’s care package. Equip them with the tools on-hand to send a note home, to grandparents, or to a friend.

• Don’t forget stamps. A note’s only as good as its chance of making it out the door.

See what happens. Maybe nothing. Or maybe having these cards within arms reach will lead to you sparking a lifelong practice rooted in something rare these days: an authentic, hand-written connection.