Dear Auntie Ida,
Last year, when I wrote a letter every day for 365 days, I wished I could have written one to you. Then I realized: Wait, I still can.
You won’t write back, but that’s never been the reason I wrote letters. I wrote to reach out to people I loved, to extend a hug through the mail, to keep in touch. And also to reminisce.
Which brings me back to you.
My grandmother (left) and Aunt Ida (right), two of four sisters. Aunt Ida was the oldest; Nana was the youngest.
You encouraged my writing before I knew where it would take me. Who knew it would lead me back to where I first honed it: in letters.
I’ve been rereading your old letters, and your excitement every time one of mine showed up in your mailbox is the reason I kept writing them. You didn’t just motivate my letter writing; you made me a writer.
With National Senior Citizens Day coming up, you’ve been on my mind. I wanted you to know that you were also a consistent role model for getting older and showed me that there’s always something else to learn. You went back to school in your 80s, ran a senior discussion group, swam at the Y — activities that kept you busy until you passed away at 101.
Plus, you made me laugh. There aren’t many people who can make me laugh out loud from a letter, but you succeeded. Underneath the humor, though, was something I didn’t appreciate while you were still around: you were always paying attention to me, showing your love through your interest in what I was doing.
June 23, 1991
Dear Felice,
Is my face red? I am now a full-fledged member of the Stupids of the Nincompoop Tribe. “How come?” you ask. I found your letter from February 25th in a pile of mail I’d never gotten around to opening … well, opened, but never read. I decided to punish myself by having no ice cream for a week. I carried it out, too. The letter was a joy, but reading your article was a thrill. My niece the journalist! I can already see you as a social activator, maybe even president of the United States, if the voters ever know what they’re doing. Sending you a little something to keep you in chewing gum or whatever.
Love, Auntie Ida
This brings me to another thing I love about letters: they don’t just tell us what happened, they remind us of what we’d otherwise forget. A person writes down a memory, seals it in an envelope, and that moment gets another chance at being remembered.
May 27, 1994
Dear Felice,
Your newsy letter was a delightful surprise and made me wish for more. Some people crave chocolate, I am a glutton for letters. You mentioned willow trees. I remember you and I sitting in the car when you were four, looking for “wool” trees, as you called them. A precious memory. That is the good part of getting older: having so many of them. I am so proud of you and your capacity for caring. My love to all your family, whom I love dearly, as I do you.
Love, Auntie Ida
Had it not been for your letter, I would have never known that childhood memory. You've been gone 20 years, and while you'll never know what your letters meant to me, I can tell those reading this, and with National Senior Citizens Day just around the corner, maybe it will motivate them to write to a senior citizen in their life, or write about one who no longer is.
Which brings me to your last letter:
November 26, 1994
Dear Felice,
How dare you reply so soon! I enjoyed your story. I suspect we have a budding writer in our mist. May I be advised when you are published? My coming of age to 90 amazes me. I cannot see me as an old woman. My love to all, and especially you.
Love, Auntie Ida
I’m not the only one to have an “Auntie Ida” in their corner, someone older who supported them, offered encouragement. And now, (gulp) I get to be that aunt, the one encouraging my nieces and nephew. If we’re lucky in this life, we’ve had an Auntie Ida. And if we’re doubly lucky, we get to be one.
Auntie Ida, I hope wherever you are, you’re getting lots of mail. And ice cream.
With love (and a mailbox missing your letters),
P.S. I'd love to hear about your “Auntie Ida” in your life. Who was the one who always paid attention?
SONG OF THE WEEK
Dear Aunt Alice by Liza Minnelli
This was beautiful. Auntie Ida sounds like one of those people whose love showed up in the details, remembering what you were doing, encouraging you, making you laugh, and saving little pieces of your life in her letters. I especially loved the idea that letters preserve memories we might otherwise lose. We save photographs because they capture how someone looked, but old letters capture how someone sounded. What a wonderful gift to still have her words all these years later. ❤️
That person in my life was my grandfather. I wrote about him in this post on my blog and I'm realizing I need to share it in my Substack newsletter: "The 1957 letter that encouraged me to write". https://heartspoken.com/the-1957-letter-that-encouraged-me-to-write/. Thank you for the wonderful reminder!