There’s a magic to penpals that’s simply unmatched these days. It’s a nostalgic mixture of patience, stationery and a lot of imagination. Think of the thrill of receiving a letter in the mail after weeks of waiting, giggling at the international stamp on the envelope and the loopy penmanship of a friend you’ve never seen. Imagine the anticipation of opening the envelope, carrying a scent from another part of the world. The best part of all would be the stories of this faceless friend, luring you in with every stroke of her handwriting. Sometimes there were pictures in the mail, more often though were none. So as they’d tell stories of how school went and the town where they live, playful scenes fill your head. The best part of having penpals is building relationships with those few friends over time. You’d start off with several penpals and end up corresponding with a key few, the ones you have a chemistry with. Then you make friends for life. There is a magic to penpals, and it’s one that stays with you through the years.
Friendship over Stamps and Stationery
My penpal days started when I was around 5th grade. I was subscribed to a Barbie Club (yes, the doll), and they released newsletters every now and then. One section of the newsletter would be a Penpal Corner. It listed the names, ages and Manila addresses of several girls who wanted to correspond over mail. In this day, that would be unthinkable. Think of the privacy issues! But back in the ‘80s, that was less of a problem. I remember it was summer vacation, and having a penpal seemed like a good way to beat summer boredom. So I picked out a few names, wrote to them, had my Mom take care of postage, then waited. Two responded in about a week’s time, and there began my fascination with forming friendships over stamps and stationery.
Over the next years I’d reach up to 120 penpals. Letters would arrive at home everyday and I’d feel the same thrill everytime I’d open a letter. Penpal mail was the highlight of my day after long hours at school. A bunch of letters would arrive everyday, prompting our mailman to ask, “May nakatira bang artista dito?” (Does a celebrity live here?)
There was Felicia from Chicago was fascinated with Madonna. There was Kevin from New Hampshire whose reserved personality could be seen in his small penmanship. Amy from Illinois was one of my prettiest penpals… I was in awe of her blonde hair and blue eyes. There was Stephanie from Missouri. There was a lovely girl from Spain whose name I’ve forgotten. From Manila there was Theri from Project 4. These are just a few of the names I remember.
It was through Stephanie I learned what a French kiss was. She had decided that in one letter to me she would detail what she and her ‘secret’ boyfriend would do. My young self was appalled and amused at the same time. I learned more about generosity from Peggy of Pennsylvania. She sent me stickers in every mail, and I would save them all up, not wanting to mar the lovely shiny gifts.
Winding Down
When the demands of highschool life kicked in, the amount of time I dedicated to writing letters waned. Soon I was in touch only with a very few, until that number died down to zero in college. I stored my penpals’ letters in a huge box and stored it in a closet, to be untouched over many years. I wondered from time to time what happened to my friends from around the world, apologizing silently for not having written back to some, accepting quiet apologies in case some were sending theirs.
Google was my friend many years later, when I began wondering what ever happened to my friends. I’d put in whatever names I’d remember, but more often than not the search would come out empty. Perhaps most of them had gotten married and changed their names.
I wonder about Nina, my penpal from Yugoslavia. We had stopped corresponding years before the war started in her part of the world. She had told me of her love for the music of Joe Cocker. She had frizzy reddish-brown hair and was so pretty. I wonder about the young man from Lithuania, who had shared a picture of himself in uniform. I wonder about Stephanie the French kisser and what new romances she had that followed. I wonder about Peggy and her mountain living in Pennsylvania. I wonder about Kevin, if he still finds himself unattractive. I wonder if Nicholas is the same Nicholas I see in entertainment news. All correspondence with these friends didn’t last for more than two years, but their impact on my young teenage life was unparalleled.
Penpals on Facebook
There are three penpals I still stay in touch with now. Anna from California, Stacey from Canada, Spaska from Bulgaria. We had started writing to each other when we were twelve, thirteen. We are now in our late thirties and continue to stay in touch with each other. It was a mix of having found each other over the Internet, staying in touch over email, then transitioning to Facebook. We don’t write to each other personally now, but we get a grasp of how things are going in each other’s lives through Facebook updates. A simple “like” is all it takes to know you’re still connected.
Sometimes I wonder if I still have the energy to maintain this kind of relationship. But times have really changed, and I’m not as confident to share my personal mailing address as openly as before. That was also part of the magic of penpals from way back – the unspoken trust you had in each other, the quiet respect for privacy.
It’s so much easier to make new contacts now. There’s the Follow button on any social media platform that you can click to create a new relationship. There’s a magic to penpals that just can’t be captured even in today’s more connected world. It’s the magic of friendship built over patience, stationery and a lot of imagination.