Sophomore year of college I had a professor, Dr. Bennett, who made us write letters as a weekly assignment. We could write to whomever we chose, and recieved extra credit if our recipients wrote back. When I was given this assignment I barely knew how to address an envelope, and had to google where to buy stamps. Now, two years later, writing those letters remains the most rewarding, educational, and memorable experience I've ever had in a classroom.

The class was based in American fiction since the 1950s, and the letters were initially assigned to give us, as students, a way to prove that we did the reading. We were meant to tell our pen pals about what we had read, how it made us feel, and any additional points we wanted to share. It gave the kid who never spoke up in class - I'm not that kid - a chance to share their thoughts and opinions in a way they felt comfortable, with someone they found comforting. I chose to write to my grandpa, Papa. Papa, is an incredibly well read, stubborn, and unconditionally loving human being. He did not know that all letters to and from our pen pals would be read by my professor.

My first letter to Papa talked about my class, our first book (In Cold Blood by Truman Capote), and how I would need a response from him if he wanted an A from me. He replied within days, happily critiquing the reading list my professor had devised for the class. He also included a story about his time in the Navy when he'd stayed where the novel took place - a story I never would've heard otherwise. My professor read his letter aloud garnering giggles and laughs from my classmates while my face ignited into an array of sunset hues. I had never seen someone make fun of a professor to their face, let alone seen it done by my own grandfather. Nevertheless, Papa's snarky comebacks, and general disdain for our material became a running joke as from then on his letters were routinely read to the class. When another student failed to get a reply from his pen pal, he too began to write to Papa; Papa wrote him back to say his font was too small, and to do better next time.

I haven't descended into this anecdote about Papa just to share how, though three hundred miles away, he became the life of my college english class. I told my story because though those letters took, at most, twenty minutes of my time each week to write, they gave me a story I'll cherish forever. It is pretty common that our grandparents tend to be anything but tech savvy. And as children of the twenty first century, we're not always most comfortable spending hours on a phone call. I'm telling you, letters are the best way to meet in the middle, and they're a tangible memory you'll have forever.

So try it. Write a letter to your grandparent telling them about your day, or something interesting happening in your life right now. And when you do, the stamp goes on the right corner while your name goes on the left. ;)