#spaldinglove

Sweet Saturday

So right before I left for my #transatlanticthanksgiving, I started a group on Facebook comprised of my Spalding family. Wait, let me back up.

Residency is always such an amazing experience in part because I’m surrounded by like-minded folk who are so kind, so genuine and so incredibly present. The beauty of a low residency graduate program is that for two weeks twice a year, all of us are able to leave behind the pressures and responsibilities of our non-writing lives and come together to discuss craft, theory, practical application of writerly skills, and to vibe with one another. But our schedules are always intense, and it always feels like there are a million conversations started that are left unfinished. Snippets between lectures, in elevators and hallways never seem to find a way to circle back into the zeitgeist of conversation. And while I’m always excited to have these sorts of talks, they always leave me feeling like they’re incomplete. As I attended my last residency, I was rolling this idea around in my head, trying to find a way to ensure that didn’t happen. Sure, we’re all connected on Facebook, and some of us on Instagram, but the realness of the conversations we have at res never seem to translate to the digital realm. Or at least, they don’t for me. Of course, I try to keep up with everyone but it always feels like there’s something missing.

So last week when I returned home from res, I had a pile of bills waiting for me (expected) and I also had a wonderfully sweet postcard from Premo. I’ve written often about my love of mail, particularly of postcards, and so it was incredibly thoughtful of Premo to send a postcard to me while we were both in Louisville. That small act got me thinking. Reading the card and knowing that Premo took a few minutes out of his already busy day to scratch out some words to me brought me back to thinking about how to continue the kinds of conversations I, and my fellow Spalding students, have grown to expect and to love.

I turned the postcard over in my hand a few times and then did what I always do with new fun mail – I proudly affixed it to my fridge. Then I went about unpacking my life from the last two weeks and sort of forgot about the idea I had in wanting to continue the Spalding conversations.

I know I can’t be alone in loving mail. I also know that along with my writing friends, I really enjoy the way it feels to scratch out something onto a piece of paper. I spend so much time in front of screens, and if I’m being really honest, I rarely handwrite anything at all. So. I woke for Dental World one day last week at the ungodly hour of before dawn, and thought about that postcard Premo sent. It occurred to me that it would be so easy to find a group of like minded writer folk who love mail. So I started a group on Facebook with my Spalding family with the intent of sending postcards to one another. It’s simple really – a group of almost one hundred of us (current students and alums) have exchanged real life mailing addresses, and have all committed to sending a line or two here or there, just something to keep the inspiration going, to serve as a reminder of why we do what we do, or just to say hello. My thought is that these sorts of occasional moments of sweetness that we’ll find in our mailboxes will do much more than keep the Muse speaking to us. Maybe this sort of non-digital communication will help us all remember that we’re humans first, and not just personas that are always behind screens. I’m hoping that the zeal and interest in this project won’t wane after the initial excitement, and that it’ll end up being another part of the fabric of what it means to be a part of the Spalding family. Truthfully, I was quite surprised by how many people were so interested in the idea, and the stack of twenty vintage postcards I’d brought with me to write out were so quickly out of my hands and into the mailbox that now I’ve realized I need to re-up my supply. I’m not complaining though. If it helps create community, if it helps to foster the creative spirit that lives so readily and easily while we’re all in Louisville, then it’s totally worth the ten bucks or whatever I end up spending monthly on sending out little notes. There’s something to be said for the beauty of Spalding’s program. It really is one of a kind.