A couple of years ago, I read a book series which meant a lot to me at the time. I hand-wrote a letter of thanks to the author, thanking her for providing an optimistic, yet not condescending or saccharin, story. The author is well established, and has been writing for many years. She responded with a nice (hand written) note which, nonetheless, started “luckily, I’m one of the few people left who can read cursive.” Which felt like a low-key criticism, TBH.
I do. Not. Care. If younger generations let cursive die, the world will be a lesser place. Mark my words! Beware the Ides of March!
Uncle Sxan story time!
A couple of years ago, I read a book series which meant a lot to me at the time. I hand-wrote a letter of thanks to the author, thanking her for providing an optimistic, yet not condescending or saccharin, story. The author is well established, and has been writing for many years. She responded with a nice (hand written) note which, nonetheless, started “luckily, I’m one of the few people left who can read cursive.” Which felt like a low-key criticism, TBH.
I do. Not. Care. If younger generations let cursive die, the world will be a lesser place. Mark my words! Beware the Ides of March!