Love Letters mailbag day
People send letters about letters about letters.
I wanted to do a mailbag post today.
Lots of people email me about letters, as opposed to commenting on the platform.
Maybe because they’re shy. In some cases it’s probably because they’ve read the print version of the Globe and want to add to a conversation that’s already happened.
But I’ll confess, I love these notes.
Today I’ll share some.
In the meantime, of course, send your own questions to [email protected] or use this anonymous form. The end of summer usually marks some need for change (at least for me). I’d love to hear what’s been on your mind about your relationship life – including the small problems, the big ones, even friendship complications.
This first note is about the very serious letter we had about a spouse’s mental health.
“I’m a (retired) pediatrician. I agree with everything you said, but notably absent was much mention of what effect their mother’s illness is having on the children. They’ve only been married 15 years, so these children are youngish teens at the oldest. This is a terribly disturbing for them, and we know this can have lifelong consequences. I’d urge the letter writer to take that into his planning.”
This one is about the letter about seasonal affective disorder. For the record, I got dozens of notes about that.
“For years, I could never understand why I felt so down-in-the-dumps by the end of September, because everything started up again in the Fall and I should have been happy. When we lived in the notoriously early long winters [in the Midwest], every day I sat at my dining room table for several hours in the south-facing window, reading or writing letters with a sunny mug of coffee. Finally, I learned about seasonal affective disorder. When we remodeled our Massachusetts home, we added a permanent sunroom. Since then, I swear that I have never felt S A D.
My neighbor got very depressed every fall and winter, even when using a “seasonal lamp” for several hours. Ten years ago, her husband winterized their window-encased “mud room” and replaced the door from the kitchen to the mudroom with a glass one. She has felt comparatively fine ever since.
Maybe you can put a p.s. for today’s writer. Though a sunroom or winterizing a porch (mud room) could be costly, both would be much cheaper and less up-rooting than moving across the country.”
This one was an extra “stay away from her” to the letter writer interested in the bartender.
“Meredith, the man pursuing the bartender over and over again has basically become her stalker. It’s incredible how challenging it is for women to work without needing to be constantly on-guard for men’s unwanted sexual advances or worse. Has this 51 year old man learned nothing in life? Men need to learn empathy for how tiring it is to ALWAYS be looking out for one’s safety and understand that a woman’s refusal, whether she’s working or not, means stop!”
This was about a letter about phubbing.
“Hi Meredith. I love your column, and often find what you have to say helpful.
I don’t agree with the suggestions you offered Phone Police. Her fiance is glued to his phone. He’s not going to change his behavior, the same way an alcoholic won’t stop drinking. Phone Police needs to give some serious thought to her future happiness and well-being if she marries this guy. The suggestions that you offered were along the same lines as enabling someone who can’t stop drinking alcohol. Do this, say that, try this other thing. Nothing will change unless the fiance wants it to change.
I hope you’ll rethink this problem, which to me is a game-changer, the next time you address it in your column, which is in fact great.”
This was a thought about a letter about kids.
“Hi Meredith,
I’m a daily reader of your column, delivered daily in my driveway. In your column you mentioned an antique typewriter. I have fond memories of staying with my librarian grandmother as a child (I’m 81) and playing with her already antique typewriter. I understand their fascination and hope you let your young visitors try your machine out.”
This one was for the letter writer wanting to shoot their shot.
“I was friends with a guy for a year plus. One day, he asked me out. I said that I was really sorry, but I was already going out with someone. He said: We can still be friends, though, right? And, I said: of course!
Several months later, my boyfriend and I had broken up and my friend and I started “going out”. We married in 1992, had two wonderful kids — and are still going strong (30+ years later). Being friends first is wonderful.”
This was a question I got from a reader about the letter about a husband on Tinder.
“Dear Meredith,
What is a self-guided tour?”
Yes, I explained.
Have a good weekend.
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