February 4, 2025

Recommitting to handwriting

I went to buy some band-aids at the resort boutique this week and had to sign a receipt to put the charge on my room bill.

The lady behind the counter didn’t look twice at my signature, but I noticed something that has become a bit of a habit: when in a rush, my signature has become a rudimentary cursive S” with a bunch of squiggles after it—a pretty consistent shape of squiggles, but illegible nonetheless—rather than the carefully crafted first-initial-last-name stylization of cursive script that it was when I first created it thirty years ago.

I don’t write in cursive anymore. I still do a ton of writing by hand—postcards and letters and even notes from work and life—but I inevitably write in block letters because they are easier and more comfortable, and mostly because I have fallen out of practice writing in cursive and don’t really know how to do it well anymore.

I have a friend with whom I correspond with through the post and her missives are always written in the most impeccable cursive script that it almost feels like fancy calligraphy. (Her handwriting puts my clunky reply scribbles to shame.) When I look at her letters, I realize that not only is it becoming rarer and rarer to see cursive writing out in the world, but also that it is becoming rare to see any kind of handwriting at all. Christine Rosen wrote about this loss of handwriting in a recent piece in The Guardian:

What does it mean to live without handwriting? The skill has deteriorated gradually, and many of us don’t notice our own loss until we’re asked to handwrite something and find ourselves bumbling as we put pen to paper. Some people still write in script for special occasions (a condolence letter, an elaborately calligraphed wedding invitation) or dash off a bastardised cursive on the rare occasions when they write a cheque, but apart from teachers, few people insist on a continued place for handwriting in everyday life.

But we lose something when handwriting disappears. We lose measurable cognitive skills, and we also lose the pleasure of using our hands and a writing implement in a process that for thousands of years has allowed humans to make our thoughts visible to one another. We lose the sensory experience of ink and paper and the visual pleasure of the handwritten word. We lose the ability to read the words of the dead.

We practice writing with our four-year-old every day, and I know it’s an important part of the school curriculum, but I do wonder when the focus on writing by hand will shift (ostensibly, after she knows how to read) into a focus on being able to type out large blocks of text on a screen. I don’t know if she’ll ever learn to write in cursive at school, as I know that skill is being de-emphasized in school curricula around the world. Our daughter will have a very different relationship to the pen and paper than we did—typing wasn’t something we learnt in school until high school, and tapping on a screen was non-existent until early adulthood—and so I am curious what that will mean to her relationship to the written word as she grows up.

There was a time when I’d hand write my blog posts and edit them on paper before then typing them out for posting on the web, but that has changed as typing away on my iPad just feels easier and faster. I feel as though my writing was better when it started on paper—that my thoughts were more structured and coherent—and that these days, when I type and post,” my ruminations tend to be more haphazard, more stream-of-consciousness than composed essay. There is a place for both, of course, but recently I’ve been leaning on the latter when I’d rather be doing the former.

So as part of my small list of projects” for the year, I’m recommitting myself to writing and outlining on paper, as much as I can given the demands on my time and brain space. I’m also recommitting myself to carrying a notebook with me, rather than just relying on my phone for taking notes. And I’m going to practice my cursive as well: if you’re one of the people who get letters from me, apologies in advance for some illegible scrawls while I figure it all out.


A poem

it is our turn to carry the world
adrienne mare brown

we are each other’s safety
right now, and every day
decide who you will protect
yourself, your own and who else

it’s time to cover all that we love
land, creature, place, person
intertwine your roots with mine
in this way our lives become miracles

there will be strangers
they will become comrades
we will each say our needs
we will learn to let community come closer

every part of us is a shield
our words, our trust, our hearts
our bodies in action
and the freedom to think for ourselves

we are the adaptation
no oppressor can imagine
our love is water — form-shifting power, river, vapor, life
we flood each other with belonging

we are building our stamina
we dream of the real world
we carry god, and see god, in each of our faces
your holiness is not too heavy, not for me

our attention and courage
show us the next stand to take
the next hill on which to hold each other
and if needed, the next hiding place: survive!

our imagination and memory
find the wisdom of our ancestors
find our future in the rubble
find the seeds in our songs

we choose our freedom
we keep each other’s souls intact
safer than any cage of empire
we know something better is coming

we are each other’s safety
we see each other’s freest selves
we will hold on tight, in public, in private
over and underground

and we will never let go
we will never let go
we will never let go
we will never let go


A great post by Sarah Hendren about choosing:

In middle age, looking back, it is the subtlest shift that shifts everything: from the late adolescent who says I really must choose the best path to the young adult who says I chose the best path, at least for me to, finally, simply: I chose.

I love what Mandy Brown has to say about this: Better to think about making a choice as a creative act, as an exercise of your agency and will, as a kind of small, brief, bright movement.”

This is excellent and important: How to build a village.

You might not think that learning about property taxes and how they work could be interesting, but this great explanation of municipal taxes and funding is fascinating. It’s focused on Toronto and how it works, but from a bit of cursory research I did, a lot of cities in Ontario (and Canada) work with the same model. Definitely worth a read if you’re curious how city services are delivered to you and your neighbours.

To celebrate the 100th birthday of The New Yorker, the New York Public Library is hosting an exhibition that will feature founding documents, rare manuscripts, photographs, and timeless cover and cartoon art” from the magazine. I would love to go and check this out.

Archaeologists are starting to treat small, urban waterways as potential archaeological sites, opening to door to learning more about our Indigenous history—and finding dugout canoes in the American Midwest as old as the great pyramids of Egypt.

I feel like I’m always tidying up around here, so it was interesting to hear about someone that misses the mess” because it signifies an energetic home and constant lively interaction.”

Martha Goddard invented the rape kit in the 1970s, yet I’ve only ever heard the name Louis Vitullo associated with it. This is an erasure that must be fixed.

Talia Lavin updates Dorothy Thompson’s Who Goes Nazi?” in Who Goes MAGA?”

I can’t get over just how fascinating I find this site, tracking every passenger train in the US and Canada in real time. (Next time I’m on my Via train to Toronto I’ll be sure to track myself!)

Questlove made a seven-minute super-mix of musical performances from Saturday Night Live’s 50-year history, as part of his recently-released documentary on SNLs music, and the DJ mix is EXCELLENT. A whole bunch of joy packed into seven minutes.

I know I’m not the best writer so it’s extremely humbling that so many of you choose to read this every few weeks. I’ve been thinking a lot about why I write, and why it’s important no matter what my skill level, and what’s stuck with me is this snippet from a Bluesky post by Bianca Wylie (someone I admire immensely):

if writing is something you think about, do it. write your imperfect thoughts out. and then write more. it’s a political act and a way to see and find and feel each other. don’t pay attention to who reads what. you will never know its full impact and that’s part of magic

A quick look at the movies, television shows, music, and books that captured my attention in January.


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