Whatever Became of Hilary?

I have a very large, heavy box in the attic.  It has followed me from home to home over the years, but is rarely opened.  It is filled with a lifetime of letters and cards.  They are the remnants of my childhood.  They are a tangible connection to a part of my life that has long since passed into a realm I can barely recall anymore.  I'm not sure why I cannot part with these letters.  It's not like I open that box on a regular basis and reread the childish dreams and dramas written there, but getting rid of them would be like tossing out a part of something very important to my very existence.  It is perhaps proof of my importance in this world, if only for a small handful of long lost friends.   

My second grade teacher introduced me to Hilary.  I never actually met her face to face, but we grew to know each other pretty well.  She lived in Scotland and I had picked her name out of a box.  We wrote letters, exchanged pictures, even sent little gifts unique to our different cultures.  We shared secrets and dreams.  She once confided in me that it was easy to share with me because we lived so far apart and there was no worry about secrets being whispered in the wrong ears. 

For years we kept in touch, right up until she married in our early twenties.  The letters aburptly stopped right after she sent me the letter with the picture from her wedding day.  I often wonder if I had said something in one of my letters that insulted her or perhaps I shared one too many "deep, dark" secrets with her and disappointed her.  Or maybe life just got too hectic for her to sit down for a half hour or so to compose a letter to me. I can certainly understand that.  But for years, her letters were bright spots in an otherwise confusing and often lonely childhood.  It was like losing a piece of myself.

Each time my family moved, I gained more pen pals; old friends who kept me connected to a world in which I wanted to remain.  There was Dale, Helen and Bozana from Dobbs Ferry and Elaine, Marie and Maryann from Peekskill.  Gradually, over the years, the letters became fewer and fewer until most of my old friends had moved out of my orbit and on to lives that excluded me.  Amazingly, I still do hear from Melissa who I've known since I was about 8 or 9 and Elaine who was the very first person to befriend me when I was thrown into the new environment in Peekskill.  Somehow, the letters kept coming in, sometimes a trickle, sometimes long involved confessions of a life that could only be trusted with a distant friend.  I haven't seen Melissa in 35 years even though she lives right over the border in Maine.   I see a bit more of Elaine. 

Technology has changed the way I keep in touch with these two old pen pals, but it's just not the same.  There is just something about getting a hand written letter in the mail that an email or text message can't touch.  The mail only brings junk mail I shred, bills and catalogs I no longer need since I go online for it all now.  The arrival of the newest selection from my queue list on Netflix is about the only excitement I get from the mailman anymore.  Letters provided something tangible, something infinitely more personal.  Hand written notes on personal stationary, perhaps a hint of perfume, a little keepsake and a sticker or stamp to add some whimsy meant someone had thought enough of you to put in the time and effort to let you know you were in their thoughts. The effort involved made you feel that you were important to them, even if only for the few minutes it took to write the letter and put it in a mailbox. Web pages on the internet aren't about the person you are trying to connect with, it's all about you.  It's a exclamation point on your life, an advertisement to let the whole world know who you are and what you think. 

The internet isn't all bad, it has reconnected me with some old friends, like Ann, who I had sadly lost touch with years ago.  I found her online about a year ago. But I hardly knew Todd or Elvena in high school and they are now on my Myspace page listed as "friends".  I only set up the web page as a way to keep in touch with my niece, nephew and keep tabs on my daughter.  I still really only use it for that purpose, but have found that it has reintroduced me to people who seem to feel some long lost connection to their past through their association with me.  I feel that way at times anyway.  When I first found Laurie I was very excited to reconnect with her.  She had dated and eventually married my high school boyfriend's best friend.  We had spent quite a bit of time together back in high school.  After the initial "whoo-hoo" feeling though, the interest quickly faded.  We had nothing much in common anymore.  We had been out of touch for so long, there seemed nothing to latch on to anymore.  Not that it's always that way (I look forward to seeing Todd in person soon), but more often than not it is a quick thrill that just as quickly cools.  These people I hardly knew 20 years ago are certainly no closer to me now than they were then.   

Sometimes I go online and try to find those old pen pals from long ago; Dale, Helen, Bozana.  I even look for John and Leo at times (old flames long ago left behind).  Sometimes I am successful; Helen is a doctor living in Illinois these days. Sometimes it is a bit of a disappointment; Maryann said "wow" and not much else.  Of all the people I wonder about though, I wonder most about the girl who lived half a world away, who I never actually met and who sparked my passion for letters through the mail.