A Dying Art

When I was a teenager, my favorite time of day was when the mail came. I used to stalk the mailbox waiting for the mail.

Why? Well, probably because I had no life. But, no, it was because I had a dozen pen pals and at any day, I might get a letter.  Some pen pals lasted the duration of a summer, while others saw my through high school.

The first letter I know I wrote was to my grandparents while we were stationed in Iceland. And it is hilarious. "Did you know we had a sister? Her name is W...