Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Why a Breadbox?

My writing began at a breadbox. Mother’s metal breadbox, 1950s vintage with a pull-down front door - it made a dandy mailbox. Just the right receptacle for letters to Paul.
Paul was my make-believe husband, the kind that’s appropriate for an eight year old girl. I invented him for my growing family of dolls. Paul was never around, but that was no problem… I simply enlisted him in the Air Force. Did I have envelopes on hand for his letters, or stamps? Maybe not, but again: no problem. I could always get paper, and I could fold, and color, and draw.
“Dear Paul how are you I am fine. We have a new baby her name is Babs. I will put this letter in a envalop so youll get it soon.? I will write if we get another baby.”
Letter finished – letter squeezed into crack at top of breadbox door – letter sent. Letter left waiting in the darkness, stuck between Hostess Cupcakes and loaves of white bread.

Fast forward many years and here I am again, at the breadbox. I have no idea how many recipients of my letters there have been between Paul and......

…..well: you.

Now that I think of it, this is the first letter I’ve mailed in a “Breadbox” since Harriet was serving Ozzie’s dinner on primetime TV. I’ve written so many letters in the meantime that my husband (the real one) once remarked that I could write them for a living. I’ve also written articles, a book, and a multitude of journal volumes in the years between breadbox and blog. But the thing is: I prefer letters to any other kind of writing. I like the spontaneity of a letter; I like the randomness. I like finding out what I’m thinking when I see it appear on a page.

And with that, I welcome you to check out the breadbox. I hope we can visit again in a day or two. I will tell you now that I’ll be chatting about prayer, and about what it means to live for God in the midst of a busy world. And who knows what else might be dashed into the mix?
For now, this first letter is finished. Squeezed into a tiny crack in a corner of the Internet. Left waiting in cyberspace, somewhere between a blog about cupcakes and one with a photo of white bread.
Letter sent.

thebreadboxletters.blogspot.com


(painting on this post, by Henriette Browne, is in United States public domain)

10 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing this memory and explaining the name of your blog...inviting us into your world.

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    1. Thanks so much, Amanda. I often wish some of those long-ago "Paul letters" had been saved! :)

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  2. I like the way you think...and converse, I feel like I'm sitting at your table engaging in quiet conversation over a cup of tea. I look forward ton reading some more of your musings.

    Lyn

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    1. Lyn, thank you so much! Would you like a Hostess cupcake with that? And here's a package of unopened Twinkies from 1964. Should be fine.

      I'm glad to have you here.

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  3. Loved your letters to Paul!!! So sweet!!!

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  4. How sweet is it that you named your future husband? I was not nearly as creative! I dreamed of being a mom, and I loved my dolls; but when I was small, I don't remember worrying about giving my dolls a daddy. I just love this post, more than I can even say. And I'm assuming that was a quote from one of your actual letters, that they still exist? That is the best!!

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    1. Laura, my childish literary "masterpieces" no longer exist. I am pretty sure of what I put in a few of them, however, and I truly do remember telling "Paul" about getting new babies. I even have a memory of writing him about our "poor little one armed child." That was a "Tiny Tears" doll whose arm fell off and just would not stay on no matter how many times Daddy fixed it.

      Can you tell that dolls were a big part of my life?? All I really wanted to be was a mommy :).

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  5. I just come across your other Breadbox from another blogger. It makes me remember the breadbox my dear grandmother always had. Thank you for sharing your world with us. I have "The Cloistered Life" bookmarked for a daily check, will bookmark this one too.

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