Friday, April 1, 2011

Long-Hand Letters

I have been thinking about letters. Long-hand letters to be exact. This world is so filled with instant gratification, e-mails, text messaging, instant messaging, facebook, tumblr, twitter, google, the list is endless.We are constantly bombarded with the notion that if it is not immediate, then it is not valuable. My dear friends, the wait makes it worth while. Letters, the kind that you have to write with just a pen, stationery, and intangible thoughts that once scribed, become tangible.  Writing by hand sets your mind to a different frequency. There are few distractions, just your innermost thoughts and a blank sheet of paper desperately waiting for you to paint a scene with descriptive words that dance in circles, splattering creative, colorful words into a masterpiece. This despondent, yet heart felt, letter was written in the Civil War era. My mother showed me this letter many years ago. Since the first time this letter graced my eyes it has been etched in my memory. Powerful in its message, painful in its meaning, and swaddled in the simplicity of its beauty; this letter is sure to tug at your heart strings.

Sullivan Ballou
My very dear Sarah

[Excerpts]14 July 1861
Camp Clark, Washington [D.C.]

My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow.   Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.... 
I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter.   I know how strongly American civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution.   And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.... 

Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break;  and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field. 

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long.   And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us.   I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my litle Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.   If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name.   Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you.   How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been!   How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness.... 

But, O Sarah!   if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you;  in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights . . .  always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath[;] as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.   Sarah do not mourn me dead;  think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again....

[The war began one week later on the plains of Manassas, Virginia.   Major Sullivan Ballou of the 2nd Rhode Island Infantry died there at the battle of Bull Run.]

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