Story for Grandparents Today Magazine

As a grandfather, parent and overall believer in traditional values, I must say I worry about past cherished customs being discarded in today's fast-paced world. What will happen if things are not written down any longer? Do you remember letter writing, thank you cards, Christmas cards, Birthday cards? Do you recall having a diary or seeing one that a relative had? When my wife Clarice died a few years ago, it was painful, but I cleaned out all of her clothes and jewelry and treasures, except her diary. I didn't know she had one until last week  I was rummaging through a bureau drawer looking for God knows what, when I found this small but compact brown leather covered book. I thought it was a bible at first, but when I opened it, I recognized my Clarice's handwriting. "OMG", I thought, "she kept a diary". How did I overlook this? I felt strange about reading it, but what harm could it possibly do since she has not written in it in over 5 years. I proceeded toward the back of the book and began to peruse one of her last entries.

January 5, 2013

Today was a particularly lovely one. The beautiful pearl necklace that Jim gave me for Christmas had a broken clasp, so he had it replaced and gave it to me today.. He put it around my neck with such a loving touch, that it was almost as if he had given it to me for the very first time. He is so special, my dear Jim.

I started to cry, because Clarice and I were close, even though we had our difficulties, but....I never heard her refer to me as her...dear Jim! I wondered if I should read any more entries. Of course, my curiosity and the thrill of seeing her beautiful penmanship drove me on. I could almost hear her soft, sturdy voice as I read what she wrote. I turned the pages to the beginning, read some girlish remarks about her wonderful parents, so decided to turn the pages quickly until I got to a more interesting time that included me. I turned to 1985, when my little girl Susie was about 10; Clarice and I had  married in 1973.

November 10, 1985

I can't adequately describe how I feel today. My heart is nearly broken. Jim has been working late every night for over two weeks. I know something is going on. He is seeing someone else. He comes home late, kisses me briskly and goes to bed. He leaves the next mrorning without coming to the breakfast table or even bidding me a goodbye. Our little Susie asked me this morning why her daddy has not been friendly toward her lately. "Mommy, is Daddy sick? He always used to kiss me every morning and every night. It's been a long time since he spent time with me".

December 1, 1985

I love my husband in spite of his infidelity to me. I hate the thought of divorce or even separation. I must stay with him.  I will stay with him ...  so Susie knows her father. I cannot bear for her to be unhappy. Somehow we must work this out. We will. I will do everything I can to make it right.

I was never unfaithful to Clarice. I worked double hours in order to buy her a diamond bracelet for Christmas and to give Susie a giant doll house. When Christmas came and Clarice and Susie saw their presents, all was well. They were overjoyed. But I never knew how she really felt and how deeply my absence at that time affected her, until I read these entries.

December 25, 1985

I am in tears. Today Jim gave me the most gorgeous diamond bracelet and explained that he had taken a second job at night in order to pay for it. He gave Susie a large and beautiful doll house with lifelike rooms. She hugged her daddy so hard. I wonder if he will ever know how much we love him. I feel ashamed to have ever doubted him. I should have known better. However, if some infidelity had occured, the tension here would have been practically impossible to live with on a daily basis. It is the price one must pay to keep your family together under one roof. Thank God, this Christmas was a wonderful one and we are all so happy again.

Recently I spoke with Susie on the phone. She talked of separating from her husband Bob. She didn't know exactly what he had done, but she said she was feeling neglected. They have a little boy Timmy who is 5 years old. Susie had him later in life and of course, adores him, as do I. I'm a proud grandpa.
(He looks at diary). I tried and tried to tell her that she must communicate with Bob and try to stay with him, for Timmy's sake. (looking intensely at diary again...) Now I know why I found this. It's a life saver. I must send it to Susie right away. She may remember how she felt back then when her daddy was out of touch for a while, but ... if she sees in writing and is able to read what her mother went through emotionally, that she actually contemplated the possibility of leaving me...Susie might reconsider and do the same for Timmy. It's worth a try.

(He looks one last time at the diary in his hand.) The value of writing things down is so important. An email is hardly as effective as a handwritten message. One's personal writing is authentic and carefully thought out; it bares one's soul and tells the truth. So, it may very well be a major contributor in changing lives.

A major concern still exists. How can we be sure that our children, and especially our grandchildren, will not only get the message but actually write themselves? I have decided to write a letter to little Tim. Susie recently sent me a drawing he made of me. I am going to send it back with my letter and ask him to write a description of what he drew underneath the picture ... to tell me in words what he drew in the picture. I don't expect a miracle from a five year old, but whatever he says is his first effort at writing a real honest to goodness paragraph. This will hopefully bring the whole issue of writing full circle. If we do not accomplish this, and the children ignore writing altogether, our future is bleak.

We are slowly becoming a nation of computer oriented geeks. We spend most of our lives reading summaries and synopsies, not real, intelligent books and putting together poorly written, opinionated email messages that end up sounding nonsensical and may be grossly misinterpreted. Where will we be without great journalists and authors, who open our eyes to fresh possibilities, without chefs who write new exciting recipes, without teachers creating challenging lesson plans, without leaders who will write coherent speeches advocating justice and fighting its cause...where will these people be unless we insist that youngsters, our grandchildren, start looking ahead, take the responsibility and write down their beliefs, their feelings, their original ideas and their hopes and dreams for a better life? Without letters, documents and such, we have lost a great art and will not - cannot - survive with any real sense of intelligence or purpose.