Letter #30

Dear October,

       You were rainy, and cold in some parts. It’s hard to believe that tomorrow is the last day of October. Or Halloween, for that matter. I don’t have any definite plans yet, but I’m sure that will change. Right now I’m sitting in the lobby on the 9^th floor of the tallest dorm on campus, listening to Kodaline and Ingrid Michaelson and Jukebox the Ghost while studying with friends. These are the nights I like best, when I get to be surrounded by friends, and we get to study and listen to music and laugh for no reason. If there’s anything I’ve learned from Letters to October it’s that my best days are the ones spent with other people. The friends I’ve met here have been wonderfully kind, funny, and thoughtful. Spending time with them can make any day better, and actually, it just has.

Laura

Song of the Day: Everybody by Ingrid Michaelson 

Letter #29

Dear October,

        Today was a lazy day. It probably shouldn’t have been quite as lazy as it was. I took a cliché picture. I did a little bit of work. I listened to a lot of Kodaline, which is quickly becoming my new favorite band. Two songs of the day today for, you know, variety. That is all.

Laura

Songs of the day:

Big Bad World by Kodaline

The Ground by Orla Gartland

Letter #26 + 27 + 28

Photo by Barbara Mills

Dear October,

       The past few days have been, well, hectic. To say the least. They’ve been stressful and sad but also rejuvenating and enlightening and inspiring. The 26^th of October, especially. It seems strange to lump it next to the 27^th and 28^th because they pale in comparison, but I’ll do my best to give each day its due.

October 26:

You dawned clear, cold, and sunny. You were the day of Uncle Stephen’s memorial service. My parents, grandmother and I ate warmed-up ciche for breakfast in the house next door to my aunt’s, who’s owner had moved out for a couple of days so that we could be nearby. We spent some time with the rest of the family and then got a ride to downtown Davidson, where we walked around, visiting some of the places Uncle Stephen would have undoubtedly shown us if he’d been there. I had Chai tea at Summit coffee shop, where my aunt’s band plays every so often. Of course the bookstore was a must, and we couldn’t leave without buying something. My dad was excited to discover a copy of Looking for Alaska by John Green, and I picked up a collection of short stories by Alice Munro. Other hidden gems included a yarn shop with a tiny record store upstairs, and a cute breakfast place that was closed when we walked by, but I think someone told us it was one of my uncle’s favorite places. Later we walked over to the Presbyterian church on the Davidson College campus for the service. Since we were family we sat in the first couple of pews, but I wish I could have stood in a corner, marveling at the sheer magnitude of the crowd that attended: neighbors, friends, business associates, middle and high school students Stephen had mentored. I suppose it’s no surprise; he made friends wherever her went. The words shared during the service were beautiful and kind, people remembering all of the things Stephen had done for them, how he made them a better person, just by being around. It made me realize how rare it is to find someone like that, and how sad it is when the world loses them. Last was a beautiful rendition of “Amazing Grace,” played on the guitar by the pastor himself.

Music seemed to be the theme of the day. Later that night friends gathered at my aunt’s house for cocktails and music, just like Stephen would have wanted. It could have been a somber occasion. We could have felt sorry for ourselves, shared tears and stories from the hardest moments, but instead the atmosphere was light. It was a celebration. Old friends caught up on current events and my aunt’s very large and very talented band played for hours. Music permeated every corner of the room. During the more popular songs the entire party broke out in song, and for a moment we all embodied Stephen’s spirit. There we were, surrounded by friends and family, our hearts beating in time with the music, our voices raised, completely lost in the moment. We were living life to fullest, just like he had.

 October 27:

Just like that my time in North Carolina came to an end. My aunt drove us to the airport and I spent the rest of the day traveling. For some reason it was harder saying goodbye to my parents this time. I’d been preparing not to see them until Thanksgiving, and suddenly I got to spend time with them for a few days. But for some reason, this brief contact made the prospect of waiting another month before seeing them again worse than before. After a long, tiring flight I finally arrived in Cedar Rapids.

I’m not sure which felt more unreal: being back on campus, or the fact that just that morning I had been in the impossibly beautiful town of Davidson, NC. Even though I had studying to do I went straight to bed and slept until dinner. I joined my friends for dinner and tried to get back into the college mindset. Slowly, my brief trip slipped deeper into memory, and I started looking ahead again. Paper due Wednesday. Soc test Thursday. This next week is not going to be easy, but I’ll make it through. And I still have Thanksgiving to look forward to.

October 28:

I got so much work done today! There really is no feeling like checking everything off of your to-do list. Let’s hope this productivity lasts...

Several songs for several days:

Way Back When/High Hopes by Kodaline

Stubborn Love by The Lumineers

Awake my Soul by Mumford and Sons

Letter #25

Dear October,

        I am in Davidson, North Carolina. This is truly an amazing place. I had always heard it was picturesque, but I had NO idea how beautiful it would be. In sad times like these, natural beauty can feel like a knife in the heart., as if the world is laughing at your pain. At the same time, what better place to celebrate a person’s life than in a place where life is so abundant? More than just the scenery, though, the people have been the most incredible part of this whole ordeal. Countless friends and neighbors came and went from my Aunt’s house, paying their respects, reminding us all how many people Stephen touched. The whole reason my mom, dad, and I can stay so close to my aunt’s house is because her next door neighbor volunteered to vacate it for incoming family. Today my father and Uncle Brent took a walk around the neighborhood. On two separate occasions people who happened to be walking their dog or standing in their driveway approached them and asked, “You’re the Mills brothers, right?” and then proceeded to give condolences and offers of support. This place, this community is so caring and strong. As cheesy as it sounds, my faith in humanity has been restored. The world is full of incredibly generous people who understand both the grief and the celebration of life that is inherent in situations like these. I know that, together, we will all find the best way to carry on the legacy of Stephen Mills.

Laura

Song of the day: Give a Little Love by Noah and the Whale

Letter #24

Dear October,

        I lost a family member today. I only saw him once or twice a year, but his visits were always memorable. He was the kind of person who genuinely cared about whatever you were interested in, and he made an effort to make sure everyone around him felt included. He was full of boundless energy and joy. My heart goes out to the rest of my family, and I’m thankful that I have the chance to be with them for the next couple of days, with what little support I can offer. Above is a one of my favorite family photographs. Uncle Stephen, your generosity, courage, and love of life will never be forgotten.

Laura

Song of the day: Sacred Heart by The Civil Wars

Letter #23

You can see into the basement of the library from the outside!

Dear October,

        Today I wrote letters. A lot of letters. If you are a friend and you gave me your address, expect a letter. (And if not, send me your address so we can keep in touch!). I finished my work early today so I spent about thirty minutes in the Coe College library, waiting for a book to catch my eye. What I stumbled upon was a “complete” volume of letters from Kurt Vonnegut to friends, family, publishers, librarians, you name it. To say the least, it was fascinating. Letters are such a unique art form. Even as I say that I want to laugh at myself. To the people of the past letters were as basic to communication as text message and e-mail are today, so calling them an art form feels somewhat absurd. At the same time, I read some of Vonnegut’s letters and think, how can they not be? So many of them are beautiful. Simplistic. Profound. Witty. There is a letter in the book where he describes his time as prisoner of war in Dresden, Germany. This would become one of the focal points of his most famous work, Slaughterhouse Five. Just, wow. I read the letters of people who have gone before me and I feel like I am collecting some sort of ancient wisdom. I feel as though it were written just for me. This is another absurdity, I know, but that doesn’t change the power that letters have over me. They are like personal windows into not only the lives of the people writing them, but the time period, the social etiquette, popular culture.

Today, so much of our communication is based on instant gratification. They are all what’s-up? and where-are-you-now? and this-is-this-funny-thing-I-saw. Most of the texts I sent today were immensely inconsequential. Things like, “Where are you?” and “Want to eat?” I can’t help wondering what kind of wisdom anyone in the future would get out of reading them. And truth be told, the letters I wrote aren’t much better. I just talk about my classes, my friends, my job in the writing center. It’s hard to see them as art. But they are meaningful. Maybe even more so now than before the internet. Now, letters are rare. They have this kind of novelty aspect to them that makes receiving them even more exciting.  And even if their contents are ordinary, the act of writing them is special. I don’t really know where I’m going with this except that I’m learning to appreciate things whose gratification is a little less instant. And that I’d really like to have a bunch of my letters in a book someday. If anyone is still reading them. They’d a million times more interesting than my text messages, anyway.

Laura

Bonus Material! (These are some of my favorite letters I've ever read, from the website Letters of Note):

Kurt Vonnegut's Letter (mentioned above)

From Noel Coward to Marlene Deitrich, telling her to stop being "so bloody vulnerable"

From Ken Kesey to friends after his son's death (Warning: This one makes me cry every time)

From Ted Hughes to his son

From Tom Hanks to the people behind the Nerdist Podcast (after they sent him a typewriter as a gift)

Song of the day: Build Me a Boat to Nowhere by Hunter & Wolfe

Letter #22

Took this leaving the library late. So spooky!

Dear October,

        Today was a long, tiring day. I spent most of it doing homework: revising essays, studying for my sociology exam next week, and reading for Lit class. There were some highlights though. Things like chatting with a friend about where we could go if we could go anywhere. (I’m starting to get my heart set on the study abroad program that lets you spend a semester in London and Florence.) I’m currently trying to take control of my Youtube addiction, which I’ve finally admitted is getting out of hand, and am kind of failing at it, but I will persevere! Also I live tweeted watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind with my film music class. My classmates’ commentary was hilarious. So I guess if you want to check that out, go for it. That’s really all I have for you today. Oh, also October, the snow today was kind of pathetic. Maybe you should up your game a bit. (Except maybe not. I don’t want fall to be over just yet).

Laura

Song of the day: Basket by Dan Mangan