Handwritten love letters, full of deep feelings, tug at the heartstrings



A handwritten love letter is a keepsake for the heart, a treat for the senses.

The heft of good writing paper, the braille-like feel of writing indentations on the paper's underside and even the occasional scent of perfume or cologne can accompany sweet words from a loved one.

The scope of written communication has expanded as computer technology has wrought e-mail, instant messages, text messages, Facebook status updates and Twitter tweets. A first-class stamp will increase to 44 cents starting May 11. And the financially strapped U.S. Postal Service has even asked Congress to reduce mail delivery from six to five days a week to cut costs. Still, however increasingly rare, nothing beats a handwritten love letter on beautiful stationery.

A silver-tongued musician with The Tamburitzans swept a 17-year-old Stephanie Kosko Paul off her feet for a time in 1958. He wrote to her -- on stationery with a line of musical notes at the top -- while she was away that summer working as a nanny with a family in Beach Haven, N.J.

My dearest Stefeni,
Perhaps you are wondering and no doubt thinking that I have forgotten you, but fear not for I can never forget you. Each morning as I arise, the morning sun, fresh and filled with vigor, falls upon your picture. ...
It is my sincerest desire that you again will write for I miss you so, and long to hold you in my arms and crush my lips to yours again. ... Anticipation shall be mine until you write once more.
Josef

"He was such a treasure," says Ms. Paul, 68, of Baldwin Borough. "People don't write today. It's very sad."

They dated for a year and a half, but the romance didn't last much beyond her high school graduation. Still, she has kept his two letters all these years.

"I look at these and I read them to my one niece, and she said, 'Did men talk like that?' " Ms. Paul said. "I think girls should know that there was a time when men were polite and treated us with respect, and some girls put up with less than that and I don't know why."

People often save love letters that were neither written by nor to them.

Rita Hahne cherishes a love letter her father, Joe Price, wrote to her mother, Emilia "Mildred" Dyba, in March 1925 before they were married.

"My dad liked to sing and he taught me to sing and he taught me all the old songs and a lot of these songs are incorporated in this letter," says Mrs. Hahne, 76, of Upper St. Clair.

My Dearest Mildred:
No doubt you know by this time that I'm playing this little game of love in earnest. The single thought of the days I've wasted makes me want for you more and more, and I'm smiling through my tears to think of all those years I've needed your sympathy. You've been my guide to light and my inspiration and of all things that have been my pleasures, there is not a single one which I would not give up for the one I love. If you'll only let me call you sweetheart, I'll know I'm drifting back to dreamland to my little dream girl. ...

Mrs. Hahne had the crumbling original laminated, then made copies for her siblings. It's the only love letter she knows of between her parents.

"He died in 1953 at age 55, and my mother lived until she was almost 96, and they were just wonderful parents," she says.


Love letters aren't solely exchanged between lovers. Family and friends can share letters of love and affection, too.

Frienda Edwards keeps in her Bible a letter her mother wrote to her 53 years ago.

Her mother, Eileen Wilson, was in Jamison Hospital's maternity ward in New Castle. Mrs. Edwards, then only 13, had written her mother, who'd had a difficult pregnancy and was going to be in the hospital for a few weeks.

Dear Frienda,
The lady that was in the bed next to me went home and now they brought in another girl. She had a boy, now there are three boys in here.
It looks to me like you have a nice week planned for yourself. Have a nice time and enjoy your self.
That sure was some letter you wrote me wasn't it?
... If I can walk very good tomorrow I will call you up. ...
Lots of Love
"Mom."

Mrs. Edwards treasures the letter because she felt her mother was trying to make sure she knew how much she loved her and didn't want her to worry that the new baby would displace her.

"It's so obvious she doesn't say anything about how cute he is or how much he weighs, even as I'm looking back on it, I notice she doesn't say anything about the baby," says Mrs. Edwards, 66, of Trafford, adding she has a loving relationship with her younger brother today. "I knew she didn't feel well, but she sent me the letter. I do believe it is the only thing [I have] with my mother's handwriting."


Ronna Casar Harris, then just two weeks shy of 21, wrote her mother a Mother's Day letter in 1969.

Dear dear Mummy,
... More than anything else in the world I want to be the type of woman you are, not just as my mother but as a person + most of all as a friend.
... I could not be any bit of what I am or aspire to if you were not my mother. You are a magnificently sensitive + beautiful human being + you should know that. My last hope is that even in womanhood, I will never hide my love of and admiration for you. I want you always to feel that I appreciate you for your special Edith Casar greatness. You are my most prized possession.
I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow,
Ronna Ann

Ms. Harris, whose mother died in September three weeks shy of her 90th birthday, discovered the letter she'd written long ago while going through her mother's effects.

"It was there in the original envelope," said Ms. Harris, 60, of Squirrel Hill. "I felt very touched that she had saved it."


Magdalen Fisher has a box full of love letters -- faded ink on yellowed paper -- that her husband, George, wrote to her when they were courting. They met at the Johnstown High School prom in January 1945.

"They had the prom on Jan. 5 because the fellows from high schools were going to the Army," said Mrs. Fisher, 82, of Monroeville. "The boy who was taking me said, 'My cousin is here from Florida. Do you mind if I bring him?' "

She didn't. In fact, she started corresponding with that boy after the dance.

"At first, we were just buddies, writing to each other and then the next thing you know, he came back home for a visit and it just bloomed into love," she says.

He proposed after knowing her only a month. Her parents didn't approve because she had a scholarship to college after high school. His parents didn't approve because he was going to convert to Catholicism to marry her. Their nicknames for each other were Mayme and Butch.

In a letter dated May 9, 1945, he wrote:

Hello darling,
... Last night I had the most wonderful dream. I was getting off the train and there you were, standing there waiting to greet me and I took you in my arms and kissed you. Everything was so real that I actually thought it was true. And all that will be true as I get home [on furlough] the 18th. Your love and mine are so true that I hardly believe it at times but as I look at your picture, I can say all of it's true and everything we plan will come true.
I am sure your father will see our love as we see it and he will consent, but I am almost sure he will be doubtful because we know so little of each other. But if I can convince him that two people can fall in love in a very short time. And then me changing my religion ought to bring a little more to bear on the question.

Well darling, I'll have to be going to the church. I won't seal this till I can put my confirmation card in it as one of the many things that is bringing us closer together.
All My Love Always,
Butch

"Every letter that he wrote me, I saved every one of them," Mrs. Fisher said. "They're all very beautiful."

Miss Magdalen Grandinetti, 18, married George Pearson Fisher, 21, on Nov. 22, 1945, Thanksgiving Day. Mr. Fisher, a decorated World War II gunner and former newspaper pressroom foreman, died in September 2008.

"George was the light of my life and not one day goes by that I don't feel the same about him as I did 63 years ago," she says. "I miss him with all my heart."




L.A. Johnson can be reached at ljohnson@post-gazette.com or 412-263-3903. First Published February 11, 2009 5:00 AM


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