A few weeks ago, as I moved ever deeper into new technologies – my blog, videos, podcasts, Facebook – I got a letter from a woman in Eastern Texas reminding me that there are  still many people who don’t e-mail, don’t have time to be on the Internet, don’t wish to share their lives on Facebook and yet care about me and my life and my work. So she wrote me a letter telling me so.

I heard her message. Wiith very little fanfare – I only mentioned it once on Facebook and once on the blog – I went to the Post Office in Cambridge, N.Y., and opened a Post Office Box – Box No. 2, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816 – so people could send me messages if they wanted to by paper mail, so they would have that option.

Frankly, I doubted anyone much would use it. I don’t get letters much any more, or phone calls, and I miss both. I am committed to new information technologies, I don’t grouse about them but the other world is still there. I made it clear that I am not seeking contributions or subscriptions to be sent to that box, just messages people might have for me who don’t have computers and don’t communicate by text or e-mail. I also asked that no gifts be sent, I would just have to return them.

I don’t wish to be a bank or corporation, bludgeoning people onto the Internet, forcing them into technologies they don’t really want or need. The blog is free, it will remain free to those who can’t afford to subscribe. Last week the messages began arriving. I could not have been more surprised, or more happier.

Some contained small checks – $20, $5, one contained a $10 bill. Today messages came from everywhere- I just opened three and they are from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Timberlake, North Carolina, and Lake Tahoe, California. Dawn from California  sent no message, just a check for $50.

“I don’t have much time to spend on the Internet,” wrote Marcia Eickmeier from Timberlake, “I have a garden, goats, chickens and dog Heidi. Plus I volunteer at an animal shelter. I do like to read about your farm and critter adventures.” Enclosed was a check for $20. Susan in Millwaukee is recovering from a broken leg and can’t get upstairs to her computer, she wrote me a beautiful two-page letter on a white lined legal pad, she hoped she didn’t mind my writing, she didn’t want to be intrusive. She is not on Facebook.

“Jon,” she writes graciously, “the new format for your blog is awesome, the recognition and the quotes really add dimension and cause one to think more about life.” I shook my head at Susan, this good and generous person, unable to walk up her stairs, writing me this lovely letter in a pen.

George Peterson wrote me a brief note from his small farm near Wichita, Kansas. “I read you every morning and have for some years,” he said, “I find your blog calming and grounding, a good point to start my day, I get on my tractor and think about the things you write about, I love watching you grow and change. I used to read you because I had a border collie, but he died, and I read you every morning anyway. Says something, I think, and thank you.”

Hard to convey what a message like that means to a writer sitting on his farm in Upstate New York.

Paper messages are different than e-mail. They require some thought and effort, I don’t just glance at them, I gather them in a pile and sit down and read and consider them. Their tone and feel is different from hurried and fragmented e-mail.  I am reminded how different these kinds of messages are from e-mails and texts and  social media messages, likes and notifications. People have to think about what they right. The letters are never rude, thoughtless or cruel, even when they are challenging.

How powerful these messages are, in a sense these are the lost voices in America now, good people working hard with little money, eager to contribute to my work even though it is not necessary, driven to communicate through letters and messages and checks and paper money. They are gone from media, forgotten in politics, abandoned by corporate America.  it is very affecting to hear their voices coming through my P.O. Box.

I need to say again that I don’t want the blog to be a source of pressure for anyone, people under pressure should read it for free and not struggle to pay for it, it is quite legitimate it for them to receive it if it is meaningful to them, that’s the way I want it. Most of my messages do not contain money for me, they are just as valuable to me as the ones that do. I see my Post Office Box is going to be precious to me, a reminder to be aware and to be humble, to remember the many good people who wish to communicate with me and ought not be forgotten. Their messages are very beautiful, very clear and powerful. They are already very important to me.

And I am quite aware of the great reminder as I push deeper and deeper into new media to never forget these good and faithful and ethical people (why is it that the people with the least money feel the most pressure to contribute what they can?), and to never leave them behind. Another way to have the conversation.

It is ironic for me also, a few years ago I would not have offered a Post Office Box, not looked for messages from the outside world, now I treasure them. I  love the timeless ritual of going to the Post Office, saying hello to Wendy who works there and the villagers I see there – today I ran into George Forss and Donna Wynbrandt, George was choosing 10 first class stamps with great care. My Post Office box connects me to the world in many different ways.

I love reaching for my key, turning the lock, opening the window, pulling out the junk mail and the envelopes, stacking them on the seat, taking them home to show them to Maria, to sit down with a cup of tea to read them.

I will check my Post Office Box just about every day now, there is no need to send me money there. I consider these messages radioactive jewels of connection from the other world, the world of simplicity and meaning, the world of considered words and thoughts. How grateful I am that this world is not gone, and that people in it think enough of me to write or type their messages, put them into envelopes, lick their stamps and affix them and drop them in the mailbox. I will read and  respond to every single one of them.

Thank you Susan, George, Margie, Dawn and the many others. My address is Post Office Box 2, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.