My super-smart sister lives in modern day London. But what she’s smartest about tends to be stuff that happened in previous centuries. Have a question about Bach concertos? She’s your girl. Stumped by the Latin name of your favorite plant? She’ll nail it. Wondering about the finer points of Georgian architecture? She’s got it covered. In fact, think of her as one-woman Quora for anything before 1890.

What she doesn’t know much about—or care about—is technology. And for years, I’ve found that trait totally annoying. After all, my sister lives about 4,200 miles from my front door, so she can’t exactly drop by for a quick visit. I’ve been convinced that if she’d only embrace the wonders of tech, we’d be in much closer touch. I am, after all, her older sister.

I’ve realized I was flat wrong.

It was the day when an oversized envelope came via snail mail, bedecked with a stamp featuring the profile of Queen Elizabeth. I get these envelopes about once a month from my sister. Sometimes, it’s been weeks before I actually open them; sometimes, I haven’t opened them at all. But the day THIS envelope arrived, I’d been thinking about my siblings (we’re all miles apart), thinking that I missed them, and thinking that our modern mobile world does have its shortcomings.

It was a day of too many hours at a computer. A day when every email brought a new problem to solve. A day when all the tech toys and apps I generally love and extol were acting out. When one more glowing screen full of info, links, reminders, posts and tweets was definitely going to send me over the edge…

I turned off my computer and opened my sister’s envelope.

Did your mom ever mail your favorite chocolate chip cookies when you were in college? Ever gotten a delivery of flowers for no reason? That’s what this envelope’s contents felt like. Tumbling out came snapshots of my two nieces, bundled up against the English chill on some random trip to the coast. An article about a French chef that both my sister and I have a bit of a crush on. News clippings on Sundance films in the UK. An update on a British pro cyclist. A menu from a restaurant we both love. A brochure about an exhibit at Buckingham Palace. None of it was earth-shattering information. All of it was personal, thoughtful, sweet. Things my sister had saved, just for me…

There was nothing in that Royal Mail envelope that I couldn’t have found online or gotten via email. Except this: my sister’s handwritten note on a funny postcard; an actual photo I could tuck in my bag to remind myself how fast her girls are growing up; a little smudge on a lunch menu (olive oil?). Above all, that envelope reminded me of my sister through and through. I thought about her neighborhood, and the pretty walk to the local post office. I imagined her saving bits and pieces over a week or two, with me and my interests and passions in mind. I thought about her, thinking about me.

All the ways technology has expanded our communication and connection are indeed extraordinary. But I always try to remind colleagues and clients (and myself!) that email, blogs, websites, Facebook, Twitter — all the networks we use, in fact — are just a medium for what we want to say. For my sister, 4,200 miles away, an oversized envelope, sent through the Royal Mail, was her medium.

And what have I learned from that envelope? That when it comes to the people we love, it’s not how we communicate—only that we do. That the “pace” of my sister’s communication (stamps vs. broadband) isn’t as important as the depth of her thoughtfulness. That I should get off my soapbox about technology and social media every now and then, and learn a thing or two about Bach and botany from my sister.

P.S. In a few days, I’m visiting my sister in London. In person. The very best sort of connection. I might teach her about Instagram. Or maybe not.

Written by Cindy Wall

Cindy’s a Nashville-based communications and marketing professional, a writer, a grammar snob, and a rapacious reader (both via her iPad and in print). She knows “a little about a lot”—i.e., abstract painting, Karl Lagerfeld’s latest adventures, professional bike racing, and when to use the Oxford comma. She’s a fan of indie film and music, and bullish on local eating and shopping. In her spare time, she’s sending more letters with stamps and trying to learn JavaScript. Find her on Twitter and Facebook.

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