Isn't It Ironic?

 I don't get very much mail anymore, but the other day I received one single letter, addressed to me from a woman in Virginia. Her name is Jessica, and the subject is Front Porch Letters, with an application to be submitted in the pre-paid envelope, which explains the reason for the mailing. 

   In the enclosed 6-page letter, Jessica explains the reason why Front Porch  Letters exists: people have been missing the personal connection that receiving letters provides. Emails, texts, advertisements, envelopes addressed to "Resident" all result in a letdown for the recipient.  But receiving a letter personally addressed that recounts the memories or thoughts of a real person in a real community, these letter writers make the reader feel more connected, valued and mentally sharp than they have in years.

   To join in this wonderful experience, to receive real letters from real people, connect with Front Porch Letters. You can even send in your own written letters which may be chosen to send on to others. 

The cost is a mere $15 a month for 1 letter or $25 for 2.

  When I read the letter from Virginia, I knew I would rather have a dental filling replaced than succumb to the pathos of looking forward to Front Porch Letters. But I thought that someone setting up this venture must have researched the reason for doing so. I'm sure the target audience is older folks who likely live alone or who have outlived those they knew who used to communicate by letters, and maybe still even have a front porch.  The thought of receiving  a letter sent to them by another human being, even if unknown to them, is a welcome alternative to loneliness and isolation. Who knows, this might well become a thriving business. The senior population is growing, the business costs would be minimal, and the members of F.P.L. may well be starved for any form of communication or potential conversation.

  When I mentioned I'd received this invitation to Front Porch Letters, the person spoken to responded with one word--"Fraud."   

  I rest my case.   (I had to write my unspoken thoughts here, O Blog.