Stuck home and got nothing to do? Write a letter. I mean a regular letter. One of those paper things with your handwriting on it, the kind you fold up and tuck into an envelope, slap a stamp on and spank on its way.

It isn’t hard. Get one of those writing sticks like you used back in elementary school. Get the best sheet of paper you can find. If your writing stick is filled with ink, rub the point on the paper until it comes to life.

If it’s filled with graphite, sharpen it. If you don’t have a sharpener, use a knife. Or go down to the Dutch Tavern on Green Street in New London. They have a sharpener on the wall to the left of the men’s room, near the “Be Nice or Leave” sign, a rusty old Boston brand that Eugene O’Neill himself may have used.

Turn the crank. Hear it roar.

Sit yourself down. You’re doing something important here. Something sacred. You might want to wash your hands first, and not just to free them of germs.

The piece of paper you are touching is going to touch someone else. Someone special — special enough to deserve a letter — is going to find your letter in a mailbox, a gem among the junk.

It will be a special moment, rare and beautiful, something warm and human in the cold, corporate slush of ads, catalogs and bills. Fingers will pause. Eyes will light. A short syllable will emit from the lips, a coo of “Oh” or a gentle “Wow,” or maybe both.

This letter may outlive you, so put at date and location at the top. Every letter is about “here, now,” but someday they become about “back then.” Little means more than an old letter.

Start with “Dear,” then attach somebody’s name, even if it’s someone not necessarily worthy of that intimate salutation. “Dear” doesn’t necessarily mean you’re in love. It also means “Esteemed.” Also, “expensive.” Also simply “This is a letter to you.”

Then a little punctuation. A colon says “Sit up and pay attention!” A comma says, “Sit back and stick with me.”

Now you’re going to take something out of your head and put it in someone else’s head. A very short sentence, just three or four words, is a good way to start. Avoid giving a weather report.

Put a little effort into your penmanship. It may take a while to work the rust from your knuckles. Get swirly. Think of what you can do with a writing stick that you can’t with a keyboard.

You can go bold in many ways. You can circle words. You can change a dash to an arrow. You can dot an i with a little heart. You can make your exclamation point as fat as a kielbasa. One good question mark can ask more than one question. It can even answer a question.

Write it. Sign your name at the bottom. Fold it up. Crease it well. Maybe touch it with a dot of perfume. Think about the good old days when you could lick the flap and seal it with a kiss. Until further notice, maybe you’d better moisten the flap with a damp towel and just write S.W.A.K. (sealed with a kiss) on the back, a little white lie that won’t infect anybody.

If you’re a hardcore capitalist, you can use a private company to deliver your letter. FedEx will do it for $10.27 if you take it to them. UPS will do it for $8.25, plus another $5 if you want them to come pick it up.

Or you can take advantage of a little socialism. The post office will pick it up at your house and deliver it for 55 cents. For a buck twenty, they’ll take it to the other side of the world.

And you get to pick the stamp that’s right for you: a pretty little picture of flowers, a sea creature, an airplane, a necklace, a hero, a flag, a virgin and her babe, or any of thousands of other images, thousands of reasons people collect stamps.

Oh, if only all of life were as simple as “to get a letter, write a letter.” Granted, that’s not guaranteed. Some people write back. Some don’t. The latter may never get another letter. The former are worth calling “Dear.”

They will touch you back. The touch will be in your mailbox. Your fingers will pause, and you’ll whisper “Oh” and then “Wow.”

Glenn Alan Cheney is the managing editor of the New London Librarium. He can be reached at He can be reached at glenn@nllibrarium.com.