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Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Resolutions...

I made some resolutions before the new year.

Some I've shared with you. Some I've kept to myself.

Let me tell you about resolution #3 tonight...

I made it a resolution to write some real, physical notes...

So far, I've written President Obama. I've said thanks to some in his administration. I've blown my daughter away with cards, post cards and presents. I've sent some colleagues some notes and more.

Yeah. I've written. Sat down. With a pen. And written...

There is something pretty special about something that is actually written. You know, by hand. On a card. On a note. On a piece of paper. There is something pretty spectacular about knowing that you hold in your hand a piece of paper, or a card, or whatever, that a certain person physically sat down to write on, to share a bit of their life and heart with you. That they spend a second or a minute or an hour of their life to put some thoughts on paper, then, to put in an envelope, with a stamp, and have delivered to you via the United States Postal Service.

Yeah, it's fast becoming a lost art. In the age of the click click send or the instant text or blackberry or iPhone or whatever, sitting down, taking time to gather ones thoughts and to formulate some words and put them on paper faces the same fate traditional film in a camera did.

As Taylor Swift once said via Twitter about Polaroid Cameras... "I miss them... I want them back..."

So, like an ancient shaman commanding a technology on the brink of extinction, I've taken some time lately to send some real notes. To Kyla. To friends. To colleagues and family. To friends who are overseas and to friends who are in the next state.

Hell, last night I ripped a magazine article out of a trade magazine and sent it to a colleague. He'll be shocked I even thought of him.

But I think that's the real thing behind this dying art of writing a note.

That we think about what the person to whom we're writing is doing, about what we're sharing, and we put a bit of ourselves into what we're saying... and sending.

We hide too much behind technology.

When I got to DC, I remember this time when one of my co-workers was preparing a big box - a care package - which she was sending to this boy she loved at the time who was stationed in Iraq serving in Operation whatever-the-eff- the operation was and is that has had us there. I think it's Enduring Freedom. Nonetheless, she prepared this huge box - a care package, stuffed with goodness from home, and assembled with love.

All these years later, they're into the second year of their marriage.

Is it because of these care packages? I'm sure they played a bigger role than hitting reply to a text or an email ever could.

The most amazing thing about this resolution has been that when you stop and look back at the notes and cards YOU have received, you see the story of your life.

For instance, some of the cards and notes I've kept tell the story of me saying goodbye to Tampa when I went off on my South Carolina adventure at 104.7 WNOK. Others I've kept tell me the story of a time when I was in a relationship that was pretty special to me that I thought might be the "always and forever after..." we all dream of. Still others predict the turmoil of what might be to come as other relationships drew to a close.

All in all, these notes reflect moments in time which someone took to share with me. They're each very individual and unique, very precious, and are all very special for what they tell me even still.

Someone once said to me that you "can't put a price on what happens when someone takes a moment of their time to share with you what it is that's on their heart..."

Resolution three is me trying to once again recapture that which I've let slip away from me.

You want me to share a moment with you? Well, you're reading this, so drop me an email with your address, or DM me yours via Twitter and don't think I won't write you a quick note so that we can share a moment in time. It's pretty magical what it can do for you when you write it.

What's even more special is what it might unleash in you while you write.

Try it. You'll be surprised.

From DC, home of Ben's Chili Bowl, Donnie Simpson, the Kane Show and the last best hope of man on Earth...

t.