A strange task I’ve assigned to myself is to write a one-page letter (on colored paper), in as neat a script as I can manage, to each of my grandchildren. Monthly. From two years of age. That means seven letters a month (soon to expand to nine)! It’s an uncharacteristically onerous task; my hand gets sore. I’m not even sure the letters get read to them all (the oldest is seven, which means he might, someday soon, read them himself), but I make sure to digitise the pages so that part of my legacy will be a USB stick of PDFs.
I imagine such there's a fake it till you make it element in these tags. I once worked in a warehouse where several of the workers called me "brother," on day one. I struck me as a bit overly familiar for people who were just acquainted, but you know what? I came to like those guys, and I'm not sure I would have if they hadn't put themselves out there first with some familiarity and warmth.
"— imagine ending an email or a direct message with the likes of “I remain, most humbly, your faithful friend and servant.”
A strange task I’ve assigned to myself is to write a one-page letter (on colored paper), in as neat a script as I can manage, to each of my grandchildren. Monthly. From two years of age. That means seven letters a month (soon to expand to nine)! It’s an uncharacteristically onerous task; my hand gets sore. I’m not even sure the letters get read to them all (the oldest is seven, which means he might, someday soon, read them himself), but I make sure to digitise the pages so that part of my legacy will be a USB stick of PDFs.
I imagine such there's a fake it till you make it element in these tags. I once worked in a warehouse where several of the workers called me "brother," on day one. I struck me as a bit overly familiar for people who were just acquainted, but you know what? I came to like those guys, and I'm not sure I would have if they hadn't put themselves out there first with some familiarity and warmth.
"— imagine ending an email or a direct message with the likes of “I remain, most humbly, your faithful friend and servant.”
oh my, the things we have lost