IS WRITING LETTERS… TAXING?

A love note to Tax Day, the mailbox, and the unexpected gifts of old-school correspondence

Happy Tax Day!

Okay, no one says that. I mean, really—what is there to be happy about? Unless you're one of those magical unicorns getting a refund. (I haven’t gotten one since 2004, and no, I’m not bitter. Just deeply nostalgic for it.)

But thinking about taxes and deadlines and those dreaded envelopes from the IRS got me reflecting on the other things we receive in the mail—and how differently we react to them.

Because let’s be honest, when you get a letter from the IRS, your first instinct is usually to stuff it in a drawer you’ll never open again. But when you get a handwritten letter? Your pulse doesn’t spike. Your heart does.

The Mailbox Is a Mood
Once a week, my father gets a new issue of The New Yorker. And no matter what he’s doing—reading a book, eating, watching YouTube videos—he stops to read it. Cover to cover. It reminds me of being eight, when I’d do the exact same thing with Highlights magazine. Remember Goofus and Gallant? The Hidden Pictures? I ate it up.

Or high school seniors waiting for college decisions. (Do kids still get those in the mail? Asks the person who used to work in Admissions.) We all knew the rules: thin envelope = bad news. Usually a single page beginning with, “We regret to inform you…” Thick envelope = good news. Acceptance letter! Housing info! The promise of something new.

Or during the Vietnam War. How did young men feel when they received an “Uncle Sam” letter, also known as a Draft Notice. Were they terrified? Proud? Both? And let’s not forget the letters to the families of someone killed in war. Heartbreaking.

And then there’s the infamous Dear John letter—a breakup in an envelope. (Or on a Post-it, if you’re a Sex and the City fan.) It arrived in a nice envelope, but delivered a gut punch: “It’s not you, it’s…” Brutal, yes, but even that kind of letter mattered. Because someone took the time to write it.

Packages and Cookies
And then there are the fun things that come in the mail. Around the holidays, we get catalogs—thick, glossy publications packed with stuff we don’t need but suddenly want. Why? Because ordering something means we get a package!

And oh, packages. My favorite word. It started in camp. Then college. Cookies from home. Hand-knit slippers from Nana. Now? Every dorm has a designated package room, because we’ve made shipping to ourselves an Olympic sport.

But after the fun stuff comes the dreaded mail again: credit card statements (paper reminders of digital regrets.) And somehow, despite all the apps and e-delivery options, creditors still send physical letters.

The Letters That Matter
A friend of mine, a mother of two college students, has been writing them letters every year since they were born. On each birthday, she handwrites a note telling them of their milestones: “You rolled over!” or “Your first word was up.” Over time, the letters deepened—filled with real emotion, reflections, and memory. The kids look forward to them now, and treasure them more than any toy they’ve ever received.

That’s the thing about letters. They last longer than a Lego set. They don’t get lost behind the couch or stepped on. They get tucked into drawers and hearts. Re-read. Remembered.

What Letter Writing Has Taught Me
One thing I didn’t expect from this 365-letter project I’m doing is the letters I’ve received in return. Every day, I open my tiny metal mailbox in the lobby of my New York City apartment building with a flicker of hope. Will there be a handwritten letter inside? And this year—amazingly, joyfully—there has been. Nothing makes me smile more.

So, is writing letters taxing? Only on April 15, when I’m writing a check to the IRS. The rest of the year? It’s a gift—one you get to give and receive.

With ink-stained fingers (and stamps that stick to everything except envelopes),

Felice

P.S. Write a letter to a recent college graduate (if you know one. If you don’t, write it to your younger self), and share one or two pieces of advice about money—what you wish you'd known, what you learned the hard way, or the one thing you’d never do again. (No calculators required.)

SONG OF THE WEEK
Letter to the IRS by Montanna Taylor

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, known nationally and internationally for living in one of the world’s smallest apartments. She wrote Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love (endorsed by Rita Mae Brown), 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet (...and More) (inspired by her viral YouTube video with 25M+ views), and What Papa Told Me (endorsed by Elie Wiesel). Felice is a sought-after speaker, inspiring others through her books and talks. Find her at felicecohen.com.