The Times Are A-Changin' (Bob Dylan)

Before my Father died, he asked me to destroy his diaries, but my niece wanted to keep them. No problem! No one could ever read them anyway. The early records were written in a German code. Even the Enigma Machine couldn’t have broken that cipher. His more recent English language diaries were scribbled in his unique handwriting that bore a strange resemblance to Egyptian hieroglyphics.

The only person I ever met who had worse handwriting than my Dad was my old hometown physician. When I presented his scribbled prescription to the pharmacist, I learned about the “curse” in cursive. I don’t know if doctors enter bad handwriting contests, but I was told that one directive was so unclear that a hospital technician called the physician for clarification. The harried doctor barked out, “X-Ray knows!” So they X-rayed the patient’s nose.

I recently read a newspaper article about the demise of cursive handwriting. Soon it will no longer be taught in public schools. Handwritten note taking has been supplanted by technology---laptops and tablet computers.

The word “cursive” comes from the Medieval Latin word “cursivus “(which means running). It is also known as “script” where symbols of the language are co-joined--- running writing. Teaching cursive writing to young children encouraged hand eye control, and I assume the brain was involved in there somewhere. Now, when kids text messages, they have thumb control, and I’m not sure where the brain fits in.

Technology is a wondrous thing, but since everyone’s signature remains personal, and is different from everyone else’s, how will people, who don’t write in cursive, sign legal documents? I guess with digital creep, they will have to resort to signing with a big “X” again the way people did before they learned to read and write. But then, a signature could always be validated with DNA if you spit on the paper

So if kids can’t write in cursive, will they be able to read documents written in curlicue letters such as the U.S. Constitution or the Declaration of Independence? Sadly, I assume there won’t be any more beautiful letters from loved ones that can be saved and cherished.

History gave us some really busy letter writers. Napoleon Bonaparte had to rest his hand in his jacket after reportedly writing 75,000 letters in his lifetime---many to his beloved wife, Josephine. Stamps must have been cheaper in those days. Now, an e-mail love letter can be sent to several girlfriends---all at the same time for free.

It used to be, that the only person who’d read your mail (other than you) would be the mailman. Ours would deliver cards and letters from my grandparents, who escaped the Nazis during WWII, and got to London just in time for the Blitz. My proper grandfather tried to write in English and sent us a postcard that said, “Everything is fine, but we don’t have much intercourse.” I think he meant socially. Until now, my family and the mailman---not the whole world---enjoyed his blunder. Isn’t technology amazing!

Esther Blumenfeld (“I’m Gonna’ Sit Right Down and Write Myself A Letter.” Johnny Mercer)