I am not on Facebook; I don’t Tweet; I don’t text. I still read the newspaper the old-fashioned way.
I do blog practically every day but that is my sole venture into tekkie land.
I feel no need to add more intrusions—pings, posts, ring tones—into my already confusing life. Nevertheless, there must be rules of etiquette to steer us in this uncharted territory.
I was raised in the Emily Post era when you hand wrote thank-you notes to anyone who smiled at you.
My mother was a product of South Mississippi which is as southern as it gets. She made me write a thank you note to my uncle Edgebert who gave me a candy cane in 1953. I couldn’t even write, for Pete’s sake. I drew a picture of the candy cane and smeared something that looked like “Tank u.”
Her influence is haunting me today, and I wonder, does etiquette still exist? Think about this.
You have just received a wonderful gift. Must you write a Snail Mail note, or does an e-mail suffice?
Oh boy, this is tough. I know in my heart of hearts (and my Mother is pointing her finger at me and heading for the switch bush) that we must write a note and put it in an envelope and MAIL IT … with a stamp even.
But in this transient society where some people don’t have landlines and you can’t find physical addresses in a phone book, an e-mail is probably tacky, but better than nothing. Right?
Knowing I must do the snail mail thing, I don’t always send a speedy e-mail. Unfortunately, life gets in the way and I’ve done neither until it’s too late to properly convey my sentiment. I have become a tacky and worthless human being. Mother’s whisper gets louder! E – m – i – l – y. You’ve transgressed almost as bad as when you wore those white shoes before Memorial Day.
This is for you Norma, Ruthie, Carolyn, Linda, and Marie. I planned to send you a REAL note for my wonderful birthday party and your fabulous gifts…Because the party was the best I’ve had since I was five, and your gifts were so perfect!
Now, I’m not off the hook – you will receive a written note by Thanksgiving as soon as you give me your addresses. (Mother’s spirit is chasing me around the house with a Privet switch and it HURTs).