Remember when we used to get excited about mail—like, actual paper envelopes with stamps and ink that smelled faintly of mystery and perfume? There was something magical about waiting for a letter, not knowing if it was a birthday card, a note from a friend, or a catalog with a free perfume sample that made you smell like a bouquet on steroids. Snail mail wasn’t just communication—it was foreplay for the soul. You checked the mailbox with hope, not just out of habit. And oh, that sound of the mailbox lid clanging shut? Pure dopamine before dopamine was digital. My husband and I met briefly, and within weeks, he was on a modeling contract to Japan, so I know all to well the excitement of waiting for letters from afar. After 6 months of letter-writing, he wired money into my bank account, and sent me a post card which stated, "Take a jump over the fence. I'll be waiting on the other side." That was 36 years ago.
The memories include the faint smell of paste as I licked the tri-fold air mail paper into an envelope after writing on the front and back, the sheerness of the air mail paper, almost see-through, so that I had to choose my pen wisely when writing him in order not to have the ink bleed through. I really took my time with the thoughts that eventually went onto the page, before I even wrote one word...because if I made a mistake, the paper was too thin to erase anything, as it would tear. If I threw away the air mail sheet, that was money wasted, because they were pre-stamped with the postage already on it. Calling from my home phone was $12.00 a minute, so we talked about once a month for a few choice minutes.
And don’t even get me started on waiting for photos to come back from the photo shop. As a model before photoshop and digital photography, the photographer or I would hand over that precious roll of film like you were surrendering your firstborn, whispering, “Please let that picture not have my thumb in it again.” Then came the three-day wait—three long days of wondering if the photo shoot or vacation selfies were flattering or if the camera had betrayed me. The anticipation was part of the thrill! Now we snap 47 shots of our avocado toast, filter them to oblivion, and delete half because our pinky looks weird. Where’s the suspense in that?
When those photos finally came back—oh honey, it was Christmas morning. I’d flip through them right there in the store, photo kiosk, or parking lot, laughing, cringing, and immediately deciding which ones my family, friends, and agents could see and which would be quietly “lost” forever. And the double prints! One for me, one for you—because sharing was literal, not just clicking a button. Every blurry shot and red-eye photo told a story, unfiltered and real. Even the “oops” photos had charm, not a delete button.
Maybe that’s what we’re missing these days—the joy of waiting, the pleasure of anticipation. Snail mail and photo shops taught us patience, presence, and the art of savoring. It taught us to make connections with the shopkeepers and with the regular staff at the post office. Instant gratification is convenient, sure, but it’s kind of like eating frosting without the cake. Those of you who know me well, know that I am an icing fan, maybe even an icing elitist...so the joy of waiting and the lessons of patience are not lost on one who loves instant gratification. So here’s to the sweet slowness of yesteryear—to letters that traveled across countries and hearts, to the soft click of a disposable camera, and to the glorious suspense of three-day photo development. May we always find happiness in the waiting, and may our lives once again come with a side of double prints.
A Little Nostalgia Bibliography:
I want to hear from you! What do you remember about the joys of patience, waiting for things which we take for granted in modern times? What do you not miss?
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
@SuperiorSelf channel on YouTube
@superiorselfwithkjlandis on TikTok
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
The memories include the faint smell of paste as I licked the tri-fold air mail paper into an envelope after writing on the front and back, the sheerness of the air mail paper, almost see-through, so that I had to choose my pen wisely when writing him in order not to have the ink bleed through. I really took my time with the thoughts that eventually went onto the page, before I even wrote one word...because if I made a mistake, the paper was too thin to erase anything, as it would tear. If I threw away the air mail sheet, that was money wasted, because they were pre-stamped with the postage already on it. Calling from my home phone was $12.00 a minute, so we talked about once a month for a few choice minutes.
And don’t even get me started on waiting for photos to come back from the photo shop. As a model before photoshop and digital photography, the photographer or I would hand over that precious roll of film like you were surrendering your firstborn, whispering, “Please let that picture not have my thumb in it again.” Then came the three-day wait—three long days of wondering if the photo shoot or vacation selfies were flattering or if the camera had betrayed me. The anticipation was part of the thrill! Now we snap 47 shots of our avocado toast, filter them to oblivion, and delete half because our pinky looks weird. Where’s the suspense in that?
When those photos finally came back—oh honey, it was Christmas morning. I’d flip through them right there in the store, photo kiosk, or parking lot, laughing, cringing, and immediately deciding which ones my family, friends, and agents could see and which would be quietly “lost” forever. And the double prints! One for me, one for you—because sharing was literal, not just clicking a button. Every blurry shot and red-eye photo told a story, unfiltered and real. Even the “oops” photos had charm, not a delete button.
Maybe that’s what we’re missing these days—the joy of waiting, the pleasure of anticipation. Snail mail and photo shops taught us patience, presence, and the art of savoring. It taught us to make connections with the shopkeepers and with the regular staff at the post office. Instant gratification is convenient, sure, but it’s kind of like eating frosting without the cake. Those of you who know me well, know that I am an icing fan, maybe even an icing elitist...so the joy of waiting and the lessons of patience are not lost on one who loves instant gratification. So here’s to the sweet slowness of yesteryear—to letters that traveled across countries and hearts, to the soft click of a disposable camera, and to the glorious suspense of three-day photo development. May we always find happiness in the waiting, and may our lives once again come with a side of double prints.
A Little Nostalgia Bibliography:
- Kodak Photo Kiosks, circa 1990s – the temple of delayed gratification.
- Lisa Frank stationery – because no letter was complete without a rainbow tiger.
- The U.S. Postal Service – still delivering patience, one stamp at a time.
- Disposable cameras by Fujifilm and Kodak – making bad lighting look romantic since forever.
I want to hear from you! What do you remember about the joys of patience, waiting for things which we take for granted in modern times? What do you not miss?
Blessings,
KJ Landis
@superiorself on Instagram and X
@SuperiorSelf channel on YouTube
@superiorselfwithkjlandis on TikTok
[email protected]
Books available everywhere!
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