Everything By Hand - Two

The first communication we receive from our daughter, about a week and a half into her time at in wilderness therapy, is a scan of a handwritten letter that arrives in our email.  Although a copy, there is a sharp physical immediacy in seeing her handwriting which is, surprisingly, as moving and meaningful as the letter’s contents.

During these first couple of weeks I am beginning to grasp the rationale of the wilderness way of doing — or, rather, un-doing.  Sure, I had read all the materials, but somehow this letter is the first piece of hard evidence of what a tough process our daughter has undertaken.  Although only a mountain separates us, this is her only way to communicate and she seems very far away.

For this generation writing letters by hand is an unfamiliar and awkward way to communicate.  While using pencil and paper has little of the challenge and hardships of the outdoor skills they are learning in wilderness therapy, writing by hand shares in the absence of technological ease and glitter.  The paper is blank and cannot be avoided with a push of a button. In order to form a letter the pencil must be moved over the paper with enough care to make a legible mark.  It takes effort too, to erase a phrase if you change your mind. Each letter will be unique, the process evident in stains, blots, wrinkles and cross-outs. 

In the letters we will learn what our daughter and her team are doing: water hauling, bark gathering, making fires from scratch, cooking their own meals, learning to talk to one another honestly and openly, learning to ask for help or give help where needed.  Although we will hear about good days and bad days, the letters themselves will also testify to the process they are undergoing.  As the weeks go by, the tone of her letters will shift first to humorous resignation and then to recounting more successes and insights as the plaintiveness eases and a calmer atmosphere prevails.

While technology is present in critical ways at True North so that students and guides are clad in state of the art outdoor clothing for each season and the guides have equipment for rapid communication, every aspect of the daily lives of the students has been carefully considered and, while there are respite days of showers, movies, and cookery, most of each day the students spend outside, dealing with the elements as they struggle to learn basic survival skills. Journaling and writing letters by hand is a part of the process.

After receiving the first letter I decided I would also write mine by hand. I felt an urge to reciprocate the effort, even though I wouldn’t go so far as to bundle up and write outside. There is, in this age of ephemeral communication, a sweet poignancy in the these handwritten letters as they, along with a few from summer camp a decade ago, are likely to form almost the entirety of the concrete, preservable personal exchanges we will ever make to one another.  I hope they will, one day, mean as much to her as they do to me.