The Magic of the Mailbox: Handwritten Letters & Childhood Pen Pals
Once upon a time, before texts, emails, and the ability to instantly react to messages with a thumbs-up emoji, we had something called the mailbox—a magical, mysterious portal that delivered everything from birthday cards (hopefully stuffed with cash) to handwritten letters from faraway friends.
There was nothing quite like waiting for the mail as a kid. You’d hear the mail truck coming down the street and sprint to the mailbox, hoping for something with your name on it. Maybe it was a letter from a pen pal, a postcard from your aunt’s Grand Canyon trip, or the all-important holiday toy catalog, where you circled items with the precision of an architect. And on the best days? It was a crisp birthday card with a five-dollar bill tucked inside—pure childhood wealth.
The Lost Art of Letter Writing
A handwritten letter is 10 times more special than a text and roughly 100 times less likely to contain a questionable emoji. There’s something about the scratch of pen on paper, the smudges of ink, and the little doodles in the margins that make it feel personal. You can practically see the person’s personality in their handwriting—whether it’s neat and elegant or looks like a doctor’s prescription.
People used to really take their time with letters. They were thoughtful, detailed, and sometimes sealed with wax—because if a message wasn’t secured with a medieval-style crest, did it even count?
Pen pals were the original long-distance friendships. You’d carefully craft each letter, ask deep and insightful questions (Do you have a pool? What’s your favorite snack?), and then wait weeks for a response. It taught us patience, anticipation, and the unparalleled joy of tearing open an envelope addressed just to you.
In fact, the United States Postal Service (USPS) once embraced the pen pal tradition with its very own PENPAL program, launched in the 1930s. Designed to connect young letter writers across the country, the initiative encouraged kids to practice their handwriting, learn about different states, and experience the magic of making a friend through the mail. The program flourished for decades, proving that even before the digital age, the postal service wasn’t just about delivering bills—it was about delivering friendships.
Family Letters, Love Notes & Care Packages
Every family has its own legendary mail stories—letters that traveled miles to reunite old friends, love notes that survived decades, and care packages filled with little reminders of home.
Love letters, in particular, were a whole art form. Our grandparents didn’t just send “thinking of you” texts—they wrote pages. They poured their hearts out on paper, folded it carefully, and hoped it made it to its destination (because let’s face it, the postal service back then was working with a lot of trust).
And then there were care packages—boxes packed with homemade cookies, handwritten notes, and childhood treasures. No Amazon tracking, no estimated delivery date—just good old-fashioned faith that your box of peanut butter fudge would survive the journey (and that your little brother wouldn’t intercept it first).
P.S. Speaking of sweet letters, we’ve got some absolute gems at the bottom of this blog—handwritten notes from Keri (Penny & Rose owner) to Grandma Rose in the ‘70s. They’re cute, heartfelt, and definitely worth a look. If you’ve ever wanted to see a kid’s take on life, love, and probably a few snack requests, don’t miss them!
From Pony Express to Barcode Scanners: A (Very) Brief History of Mail
Of course, getting mail back then wasn’t as instant as checking an inbox. The way letters traveled was an adventure of its own.
In the early days, letters made their way across the country by horse, stagecoach, and sheer determination. The Pony Express (1860-1861) was basically the first overnight shipping option—except it took 10 days, cost a fortune, and often involved dodging bad weather, outlaws, and grumpy horses.
The Pony Express: When overnight shipping meant 10 days, a dozen horses, and hoping your letter didn't get lost to outlaws or bad weather.
Then came the Railroad Mail Service, which sped things up a bit—if you didn’t mind your letter traveling across the country in a train car filled with sacks of unsorted mail.
By the 20th century, mail started flying—literally. Airmail pilots delivered letters in open-cockpit planes, navigating storms and probably reading addresses while flying (hopefully not at the same time).
And today? Sorting machines, digital tracking, and barcode scanners have turned mail delivery into a high-tech operation—though let’s be honest, we still refresh the tracking page five times a day just to make sure our package hasn’t moved.
But no matter how fast or high-tech the system gets, there’s still something magical about opening the mailbox and finding a letter, a card, or even just a note scribbled on the back of an old envelope. Because in a world of instant messages, a handwritten letter still feels like a little piece of time, sealed and sent just for you.
Blueprints & Fort Dreams
For me, letters weren’t just a way to stay in touch—they were a way to plan adventures. My cousin Elaine and I wrote letters all year long, sketching blueprints for the elaborate forts we’d build together in the summer. They were always teepee-style but came with big ideas—separate rooms, tunnels, and, one unfortunate year, a compost toilet (which, let’s just say, didn’t last long after we realized we were responsible for cleaning it).
Keri & Elaine, in our masterpiece of engineering - a teepee fort at the farm. Held together by pure determination, questionable knot-tying skills, and the hope that no sudden gust of wind would take it down.
When summer finally arrived, those letters came to life. The days were spent filling pots with wild blueberries on the hill, playing badminton, baking with our grandmother, Rose, and, of course, fort building. It was the kind of summer magic you didn’t realize was special at the time—but looking back, you’d give anything to relive just one more day of it.
Because some moments don’t just happen—they stay with you. Like those letters, some things linger—the smell of fresh-baked pie drifting from the kitchen, the warmth of a summer day on your skin, or the crisp scent of a handwritten note tucked away for years.
At Penny & Rose, we love how certain scents bring those memories rushing back. We may not be able to revive the golden age of pen pals, but some things—handwritten letters, childhood forts, and the scent of nostalgia—never fade.
Got a letter you’ve never forgotten?
Maybe it was from a pen pal, a grandparent, or a little love note in a lunchbox—drop it in the comments and let’s bring back the magic of the mailbox.
I loved the story of The Magic of the Mailbox. My first memory of waiting for mail as a young teenage girl in the 1950’s was when my first serious boyfriend joined the Navy and I waited every day for a letter from him. Our mailman, Mr. Brooks. would have a huge smile on his face when he handed me a letter from him. Also, spending summers at our farm we didn’t get much mail. When we would hear the mail truck come by on the gravel and dirt road, we would run up to the truck and beg for mail. He would give us advertising flyers and we were so happy to get anything. Sometimes, someone would get a letter and we would all read it. It was the highlight of our day. These are some of the memories of receiving mail in the 1950’s.
Those are adorable, miss getting letters like that.