I'm still thinking about the disappearance of cursive writing - aka "joined" writing. My friend Marla has some very apt thoughts about this, and I quote her comment: "The legibility of my handwriting continues to deteriorate each and every year, but I bemoan the disappearance of cursive writing to the Nth degree to all who will listen to me, and some who don't want to listen too! Future generations won't experience the intimate pleasure of reading love letters exchanged during the best of times and the worst of times... won't be able to read their ancestors long-treasured letters from the front lines of war... won't be able to read birth certificates, death certificates, and even handwritten wills... history will be sadder and less interesting for the loss of this ability. Decry this 'advancement' to the Heavens!!!! :-( " Thank you, dear heart, you added things I hadn't thought of. Has anyone read the novel, "Canticle for Leibowitz", by Walter Miller? It's an eras-long story based in a monastery where generations of monks cope with the world that keeps getting wiped out. After the first disaster a monk finds a few notes surviving from a wrecked fall-out shelter, buried along with its owner, Leibowitz. He takes them back to the monastery and the monks create beautiful illuminated manuscripts from them. One of the papers is Leibowitz's grocery list: bagels, salami, dill pickles - like that. The other is the schematic of a circuit box, the study of which eventually leads to the rediscovery of electricity and eventually another holocaust. Never under-estimate the power of the written word.

I can't quite let go of cursive writing, that is, of writing by hand. These days you can get workman's compensation for pain and disability caused by computers and there are names for it, like carpal tunnel syndrome and tinosynovitis - I had that, even though I can't spell it. Hand-writing could cause pain, too, especially to writers, writers without secretaries. In Roman times such secretaries were called amanuenses, educated slaves who could write and who relieved their owners' stress. I know of two writers in the 19th century who needed help. Louisa May Alcott wore out her hand making carbon copies of her manuscripts. She tried electric shock to try to ease the pain caused by repetitive pressure - no ultra-sound in those days. Henry James wore out his hand with his prolific writing and he also wore out two amanuenses. (One of them was named Helen Bosanquet - how could I forget? - but I'll check.) So now we have computers to save our hands but our wrists wear out. There's a whole science of ergonomics now, dealing with ways of coping with the hazards of computer activity. Potential pain is not the reason for people not writing by hand, though. Hand-writing is simply not prized. My grandfather, my father's father, won first prize for Penmanship in a contest in Canada which led to his successful career. Imagine getting a job these days because of what used to be called "a beautiful hand"! (Not a bridge hand.) I have terrible hand-writing but it doesn't stop me. It's my age, you see; I still love paper, hands-on. I love to make notes and lists, scribbling ideas and reminders and aides-mémoire (yes!) and then, when I have followed up on them, throwing away the paper they were written on. I love paper, too, and write on the back of used paper. This is not ergonomic, this is ecological. And now my battery is running out. My hands feel fine.