Handwritten Notes: A Priority, Or A Pain?

I love the mail truck! I can’t help but get excited each time it comes through my neighborhood.

When I was young, I made my own mailbox out of cardboard and put it beside the official family box. For some reason, I was thrilled to get my very own mail – personalized, just for me. 

As far back as I can recall, my father insisted that I write thank you notes. He taught me that playing with a gifted toy or wearing new clothes was inappropriate if I hadn’t shown appropriate gratitude. He would leave notes around the house for me. I’d find little love notes in my room, my lunchbox, and even carved in the carrots of the Sunday pot roast. I received messages throughout my childhood that the most sincere words were often written.

Maybe this constant practice of writing led to my love of beautiful stationery and to practicing my signature over and over. Just know that if you ever send me a handwritten note, I get more excited than most!  

Over two decades ago, I had the pleasure of sitting next to Carl Swearingen, Bellsouth Senior Vice President, at a function at The University of Georgia. I was just beginning my career and he was at the peak of his so I made sure to soak up his wisdom. He shared with me that he kept note cards at his desk and aspired to write a few notes every single day to people in his company. He shared how much it had been appreciated by his employees and that he felt it personalized their large office work experience. It was like I was sitting next to my father – values of personal gratitude colliding in a corporate environment. At that moment, I received permission to bring my lifelong practice into the work environment, just as email was leading business communications. I resolved that day that if Carl Swearingen, a successful and busy corporate leader, could make handwritten notes a part of his professional practice, so could I.  

In 2004, I was touched by a handwritten note perhaps more than any before or since. It was from a stranger but someone we all know – Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. I was in the Leadership Georgia program and had the chance to have a group meeting with Justice Thomas in the Supreme Court Building in Washington, DC. It was the beginning of a three-day trip. We were all briefed that he would have very limited time and that we should not ask any questions. Justice Thomas arrived and was so honest, vulnerable, and warm in his remarks to our group. He stayed much longer than was predicted and invited questions. Then he gladly posed for pictures with each of us. He made the Supreme Court real and relatable for me.

That evening, I found out my grandmother passed away. I flew back to Georgia.

A few days later, I could hear my now-deceased father in the back of my head reminding me to write my thank you notes. So, I wrote Justice Thomas a note of gratitude for such a special experience. I wrote it on my best stationery, looked up a generic Supreme Court address online, and dropped it in the mail on a Monday – mainly checking off something on my “to do” list.

Imagine my shock when on Thursday – just four days later – I received, in my mailbox, a handwritten note from Justice Thomas!  A thank you note for my thank you note? He expressed his condolences on the passing of my grandmother and reminded me that he was there to serve my classmates and me.  Wow! 

I reminded myself that day that if a Supreme Court Justice could make handwritten notes a part of his professional practice, so could I.  

Mr. Swearingen and Justice Thomas may not have had much in common with my Dad, but all three had a gift of personal communication.

All three valued stationery and stamps over email and efficiency.  And even better – they passed on that lovely and considerate art to others, like me.

Fast forward two decades later:  my office was ordering new, branded stationery.  I overheard the office manager say, “Order bulk for Katrina – she writes tons of notes!” 

It made me giggle to myself. I still consider it one of the greatest compliments I ever received.

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The Gift of Giving with Katrina Bowers

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Reflections of Chincoteague and Angelique’s Tigress Warrior.