There is something wonderful and grounding about getting letters that people actually have to sit down and think about, and then write them out, put them in an envelope, put a stamp on them and get them to the Post Office. I get some every week in my Post Office Box, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. They are special to me, I devour them carefully, in the morning, over my coffee or tea, in much the same way they read my blog.
Most of them are subscriptions from people who aren’t on the Internet much and are more at ease with the old ways of communicating. There is something very special and personal about these letters.
Some have $5 or $10 bills folded up neatly, most include checks for $60, the recommend cost of a one-year subscription to the blog. It is very affirming to see that there are people who believe the blog is important enough to them that they are happy to pay for it. It is also fascinating to hear these perspectives in dialects and regional voices.
When I write the blog, it never occurs to me that a lot of people are out there reading it in the morning. I guess I don’t want to think about that too much when I write it, it might get too self-conscious. I am always startled to think of all those people all over the country who read it every day. Scary, sometimes.
Betty wrote me from a small town in Texas. I like to close my eyes and get a picture of people from their words. I think Betty is direct, honest and thoughtful. She says a lot, but her words are economically chosen. “I enjoy your blog and photos every morning,” she said, “it is worth paying for –. I like your attitude towards those who would dare to advise you and hope you continue in that vein –. “Betty is looking forward to our new horse Chloe and also to the puppy we are hoping to find (not yet.) Enclosed was a check for $60.
It is hard to explain how much it means to me to get a letter like that, it makes my life worthwhile.
I appreciate the support on the advice issue too. I am wary of getting short-tempered or grumpy, although social media does tend to breed those traits. Yesterday, I figured out how to turn off all of the notifications and sounds from Facebook and Twitter, I’m liking the quiet. I don’t care to be bonged at all day and I don’t need to know the very second somebody says something about me somewhere in the world.
New communications technology breaks down the traditional barriers, restraints and boundaries. Sometimes the messages feel overwhelming and intrusive. Like people sending me messages for Maria or sending her messages for me. People who are on Facebook with you tend to think you are their close friend. I am barraged with personal messages I can’t read and don’t care to receive.
I think paper letters by definition respect boundaries, they seem safe and considered, and I can read them at my leisure, not Mark Zuckerberg’s.
I think I will have to think harder about how I wish to communicate with people. It is hard enough for me to think without so many voices in my head presuming that I want or need advice or have time to chat on Facebook all day. Betty understands that unwanted advice is a violation of boundaries, and is often patronizing.
Most of the time, people are telling me things I have known for some time, even written books about. I have never gotten a nasty letter in my Post Office Box, nobody who writes a letter seems to think their job is to tell me what to do. They often disagree with me, but don’t expect a personal dialogue about it. It is very easy for people to send thoughtless or hurtful messages over the Internet, you don’t have to think about them, just hit the send button.
And yet the Internet brings so many good things – support, encouragement, information. I appreciate the fact that people are understanding about the importance of subscriptions to writers, artists and other creatives whose traditional ways of supporting themselves are collapsing.
Subscriptions can cut both ways. Some people simply can’t handle ideas that they disagree with, our new cultural reality. Stacey from Florida was angry that i raised some questions about the campaign to ban circus elephants from American circuses. She canceled her subscription, then sent me a letter demanding that I respond to her. “I have no issue with your view on the carriage horses, but i strongly disagree with your being fine with circus animals.”
So what?, I wondered. Thomas Jefferson disagreed with John Adams about slavery, no less, not elephants. The Revolution went forward.
I found it hard to grasp the idea that people think subscriptions only buy ideas they agree with. Idea sites are not the same as socks on Amazon. You get some things you like, somethings you don’t. The good Katz and the bad Katz. This is not the blog for her, I thought, she is way off track. I think advice is a metaphor for this idea, this American disease that corrodes identity and independence and demonizes difference. Personally, I learn much more from people who disagree with me than people who agree me, that is very much the point of the American experience.
Left-right blogs and cable news channels tailored to the like-minded are slowly killing off the idea of civil disagreement, or even the right to disagree. Outrage and hysteria are the new social currency. I did message Stacey, I told her (politely) to keep her money and get lost. If she can’t bear to be disagreed with, she belongs on the left or the right, not on bedlamfarm.com (take note, Betty. smooch). She does not belong here.
Subscriptions pay me for my work, they do not buy me outright.
I happen to like change, although I think sometimes I got hit with too much of it at one time. Betty understands the social contract: if you use something every day and find it useful or meaningful, it is appropriate to pay for it. I suppose it is a measure of worth. Do people really value only things that are free? People who take the time to write letters would get this, the letters themselves are a statement of values. When Betty writes that my work is worth paying for, she is validating my work in the most direct way.
It took me a long time to get the importance of being paid for one’s work. Betty also understands something else. The subscription is a payment for my work, just like one would pay for my book in a book store. You get to buy the book, not the person.
Many people are baffled by my bristling at unsought advice. They say if you put yourself out there, you should simply accept it. I don’t buy that, it’s up to me. It reminds me of the argument that women who experience sexual assault were asking for it by dressing well. I’m with Betty. I will accept only what I feel is appropriate and am comfortable with. That, for me, is the meaning of identity. Other people don’t get to tell me what I must accept. Sometimes I think we are losing that idea in our culture. I think I am the Dutch Boy with his finger in the dike.
I thank you good people who send me subscriptions last week, they are appreciated very much. They matter. Thanks to you also, Betty, I would love to meet you one day. I think you are a smart and tough cookie. And I will definitely continue in that view. I share my life, I will never give it away.