Bring cursive handwriting back in style so I don’t feel old
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Bring cursive handwriting back in style so I don’t feel old
Generation Y and Z keep reminding me to grab my invisible cane
Writer’s note: This post was first published on Medium’s “Tickled” on July 19, 2020 and will now be permanently housed on Substack’s new “Tickled” column.
She leaned over the banister to get my attention as I walked to my car.
“You have beautiful handwriting,” my neighbor said, confirming she received the envelope with her laundry refund inside. “And I haven’t seen cursive writing in a really long time.”
I stopped. My leg trembled. And I looked for my invisible cane. It happens every single time I send a thank you note from my box collection, or a handwritten note from my stationery and definitely when I send my nephews birthday cards. At one point, my mother and brother had to read the messages on the birthday cards to my youngest nephew; he didn’t know what the hell was on the page.
Two co-workers joked that my handwriting looks “like something from the Declaration of Independence.” Hey man, I will not be shamed for paying attention in handwriting class. And if I pull out my notepads with my name printed in cursive handwriting on the top of each page, those same two jokers really have the times of their lives watching my handwriting match the pre-printed version.
Recommended Read: “‘Are you mad at me?’: The art of handwritten letters ~ Blog 1 of 8: Toastmasters, handwritten letters never go out of style”
I’m an unenthusiastic Millennial who leans more toward Generation X (born in ’81) but doesn’t quite make the cut. I like post-it notes more than Google Tasks.
When a prior boss (a definite Millennial) told me the thank you card I slipped into her purse was “so nice and old school,” I could’ve just snatched it out of her hands. (I wasn’t going to though. That lady gave me a $14K raise within a year’s time. I’ll be “old school” all day if it pays my bills.)
Ebooks? I’m not messing with them. Audible’s free trial month doesn’t impress me either. I’d rather walk around a library and grab a book that too many dirty hands have touched (to disinfect it as soon as I get it in my car). Audiobooks are also suicidal; it only took me one time of almost falling asleep on Lake Shore Drive before I realized the child in me still feels like someone reading to me means it’s time to go to sleep — even while driving.
But I knew I was officially entering the “grown and sexy” club (which honestly sounds like it’s trying too hard to make a point) when my nephew’s friend came by to visit with him. I handed him my foldable laptop to look for a movie and said, “Pick whatever you want to watch.” He looked at my four-foot long collection of DVDs and went, “Oh, so you don’t stream? Doing it the old school way, huh?”
I huffed, “Well, what am I supposed to do with all these movies? I’m not going to get rid of them because Netflix temporarily got on board.” (Should I tell him I cannot remember the last time I watched anything that wasn’t on Amazon Prime or Netflix? Absolutely not. I’m going to get around to binge-watching my “The Wire” DVD collection and “Suicide Squad” some day. They’re at the front of the shelf.)
I am a young old-schooler. Generation X is that weird in-between; your favorite rapper still knows the champions can still out-rap them. We are not perfect though. We’re as responsible for Rakim as we are “Beavis & Butthead,” and MC Lyte as much as L’Trimm “Cars That Go Boom.” We also wore Hammer Pants, backwards jeans and neon biking shorts, all while trying to be taken seriously in typewriting classes — 81 words per minute, and I’ve smoked every challenger who tried to beat me. (Court stenographers, I come in peace. Don’t embarrass me.)
I have had penpals, a boombox and can create Giphys. I have had VHS tapes and twirled pencils in cassette tapes, but I can read and write HTML coding. I’m old-young. So I think I’m going to puff out my chest for “beautiful handwriting,” sending thank you cards from box sets and not risking my life with audiobooks. I’m old school. I’m “grown and sexy.” And I do not answer to your Millennial accusations. Now I’m off to find my calligraphy pen. It’s time to write in my journal.
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