This is a prequel letter about The Whimsy Letter Society, a snail mail organization that you may find here.
For the first letter in this series, go here.
Tucson, Arizona
January 24th, 2026
My dearest Erma,
Rather than talk about the niceties, as you call them, I will go right to the heart of the matter.
You found Grandma’s old ledgers? How delightful. So often, those “old” things are tossed away like yesterday’s trash. As a society, most of us see so little value in what is deemed old, as you well know.
Look at us! Women in our 60s, and we have stopped being seen. The commercials geared toward our age group are all about trying to hold on to our youth. As if! I would not go back to being 20. No siree. Unless, of course, I could keep the mind and perspective that have been hard-earned through the decades.
Seriously, it is as if we stop being human the moment a gray hair sprouts on our heads. The nerve of those pesky hairs, refusing to stay dark for the sake of our visibility and good standing in society.
This is the reason I succumbed years ago to youth in a bottle, also known as hair dye.
Talking about hair dye, have I told you that I have decided to embrace my gray? Everett told me from the beginning that he loved me as I was, even to the tips of my gray hair. I did not fully believe him. You know how kind he is. And I felt that, as his wife, I ought to be presentable. You know, the whole “don’t let yourself go” mantra.
I am not letting myself go. I am liberating myself to my fullest expression. That is far from letting go. What I am letting go of are the judgments, the chemicals, and a substantial hairdresser’s bill. I should be applauded for making an eco-friendly decision, shouldn’t I? Then again, to each their own. I applaud the women who love themselves best with the dye. It should be about us, the person, no matter the choice.
I will not send you a picture yet, as I think the two-toned hair is dreadful. I think I will go for a big chop when I go next. My natural hair is now long enough that I think I will feel comfortable with shorter hair.
But I digress.
As to your idea of reopening the Society, I am assuming you did not wait for my answer and have already run off with the idea. You have probably pulled off a few all-nighters, unable to sleep, your mind fizzing, as you call it.
When you chomp on an idea, you are like a tick on a dog and will not let go until you resolve all those loose ends or give up entirely.
I am writing to tell you: do not give up!
I am here if you need to talk or bounce ideas off me. But do not let go. It is a delightful idea.
We remember the joy of snail mail all too well. But think of this: there are people alive today who have never received any mail unless it was a bill, an advertisement, or a politician’s mailer.
How is that for dreadful?
Letters do matter.
I have kept many of Grandma Nora’s letters, as well as Everett’s love letters. I even have the letters from Jack and his sisters from the summers they spent with you. Handwriting all askance from hurry and dubious spelling. All so dear to my heart.
A letter is a gift. Gift of thought and time. A loved one’s handwriting. It all matters.
In this world which seems to move at such a fast pace, who will be the keeper of sweet things past? So, why not you, my sweet sister? Why not you?
Keeper.
Carry the legacy. Pick up the light and fan that flame.
I know that since your Gregory is gone, you have been heartbroken and suffered much from his absence. The hours must feel terribly lonesome without him. Even more so now during the winter months in Sea Oak, unless you are frozen from the cold, while I enjoy a magnificent 63. (I will even send you a picture of my view today.)
Maybe you can fill some of those desolate hours with something meaningful: the Society?
You know, you are welcome to visit if beautiful weather and even better company are what you are after. The mailbox is free of eggs this time of year, so you will like that.
Please keep me updated on your progress as soon as you are able. I pledge to sign up as soon as you have all your ducks in a row.
I aim to be the first member.
Until later, your favorite sister,
Liv
TO JOIN THE WAIT LIST CLICK HERE
To learn more about The Whimsy Letter Society and Sea Oak, please click here or visit the membership site here.
A Note About Sea Oak
Sea Oak is a fictional place, although I like to imagine that somewhere it could be real. Its people, businesses, homes, and The Whimsy Letter Society are creations of my imagination. From time to time, their stories may brush against real people, places, and events from history or from my personal life. When they do, I have tried to treat the history with care, while allowing the fictional world of Sea Oak to grow around it. And with every letter received in the mail, I will always share what is fact and what is fiction.
While you will not find Sea Oak on any map, I hope that with every letter, it begins to feel a little more like somewhere you know and love.