The Ceremony of Writing

At our family reunion last week one of my uncles had a photo copy of a document from 1918,  my grandfather's release from the draft for the armed forces. My grandfather had lost one leg below the knee in a logging accident when he was 12 years old, and was also legally blind in one eye, so he was exempted from the draft for World War I. The exemption was duly signed by the county draft board representative, who was the grandfather of my cousin's husband. My grandfather did not sign it himself: he had my grandmother, to whom he had been married for maybe a year, sign it on his behalf and then he 'made his mark'. She had been able to complete 5th grade, so her handwriting was better. Appalachia in 1918 was a hard place to grow up, and it got even worse during the Great Depression in the early 1930's.

In a time when many fewer people could read and write, signing an important document really was a ceremony. While my grandfather was able to do his own signature by the time I knew him, I don't really know if he was able to write in 1918 or if it was just slow and laborious so he had my grandmother do it instead. But in any case, to write your signature was an important thing in those days. For those who could not write, it could be an embarrassing thing. I can see how 'signing ceremonies', such as the President signing a new bill into law, would be a much bigger deal in those days than it is now.

This reminded me of what a powerful thing the written word can be. Through much of history writing was both expensive in terms of the cost of paper, ink, and pens, but also required education that many did not have. Writing is taken for granted now, and with computers it is being replaced by 'keyboarding'. In many ways that is a shame.  While in college my mother would write to me sometimes, and she still does. But I only have one letter written in my father's hand. I saved it. Since he was born in 1922,  he grew up in Appalachia when the value placed on education there was still not much different than when my grandfather grew up a few years earlier. Good handwriting was not a priority for them. For him to write a letter was unusual but I am glad he took the time to do that. I am sure it was a chore for him, but it was a blessing to me.