Even with the chicken-scratchiest scrawl, there's something treasurable in a handwritten letter. Isn't that why we box some away, impossible to relegate them to trash? I still have letters from my Jennie Arnold Edwards Y Camp days, some likely 40 years old. And remember those creased and folded notebook paper letters passed from friend to friend in class? Why would I save those? Closing my eyes I can see their writing on the page and it's as familiar as their faces--Mandy's handwriting was my favorite and it suited her; full and cheerful, each letter a stroke of happy. Kimberly's had a