Somewhere in this thought, I was trying to make sense of this whole generation that is being brought up today. I figured that since most of them could not do math by hand it was not a requirement, that being able to write by hand was a requirement in school.

How about this?

Have yourself or if you have children in today’s schools write out a sentence or two, or a paragraph from a book. It does not matter what is written, as long as it is.

I was pondering this thought when I was listening to the news about how many of our children and how many are there that can not write, not simply print, but write. Actual writing is what I am talking about, the penning of ones thoughts on paper with ease and elegance.  It would appear that this has become a lost art, and a lost skill, to the computer, PDA, cell phones, and so forth.

The days when Shakespeare would write out his work by pen and paper, and thoughts flowed from the quill with ease. I do not know how and when it all started to be lost, and how many people encourage their children to use a lost art of writing.

There are days, when I trade up the computer for a pen and paper to write my thoughts. When I put my computer to rest, and let it know that my hands must remember that writing is something that should be a gift.

When I write these days, when I put the keyboard down as it were, I pick up the pen, I wonder, will this paper be read, and will it be remembered? When I write, I write with love, because for me it takes skill to pick up a pen and write.

About three weeks ago the power went out. I did not have a computer or a phone or anything, I realized that I had an electric can opener, and it make me sit and think about this, about what I would do and how would I survive without power. It was the longest six hours of my life, without my computer. So I picked up a pen, and started to write my thoughts.

It’s funny how much reliance we have on technology that in the dark we sit confused, alone, unsure, afraid and scared. We do not know what to do in the dark, without power, without the hum of our electronics to keep us going.

The silence was deafening, so I wrote with my pen.

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