JWR Tales of the World Wild Web


Jewish World Review Feb. 21, 2000 / 28 Shevat, 5761


A letter and a life



By Vanessa Winans

http://www.jewishworldreview.com -- I GOT a bit more than I bargained for when I bought a used book in Detroit several weeks ago.

Inside my copy of "Come, Tell Me How You Live," by Agatha Christie Mallowan, lurked a letter written in December 1977, by a young man in North Hollywood, Calif., to a woman in Windsor, Ont.

Perhaps an honorable person would have simply tossed out the letter, but I wasted no time fishing it from its open envelope. I couldn't resist. A 23-year-old letter tucked in a book about an archaeological dig - could it get more romantic?

I found a chatty page-and-a-half missive, clearly not a love letter, but an affectionate note. Matthew wrote of his work with lab rats and hopes of going to Israel or Europe. He wondered if he might find a job he liked more. He sent news of mutual friends who were getting married, and wished Betty the best for 1978.

A note between friends, a written snapshot of a 20-something wondering what to do with his life. He'd probably be in his 50s now. Being of a sentimental turn of mind, I wondered whatever happened with Matt and Betty.

I fired up the computer and got to work. After all, I have worked as a reporter for more than a decade, and have done genealogy work for about five years. I know a thing or two about finding people, and I enjoy the hunt.

Matthew had an unusual last name, so I started my search by simply typing his name (Matt and Matthew, plus the surname) into Google.com, the search engine I like best. A few Web sites appeared. Several referenced a man with the same name, listing him as a research scientist with an environmental agency. (I'm being deliberately vague so this man doesn't get hundreds of e-mails.) Same unusual name, a scientist - it sounded like a possible match, so I shipped him an e-mail describing what had happened, specifically mentioning that the writer had been trying to decide if he wanted to go overseas.

The reply came the same day:

"I don't remember writing such a letter, but I don't remember everything I ever wrote, so it's not impossible that I wrote it. And that particular issue hasn't gone away. So, if you could send it, I'll let you know if it was me. - Matt"

I sent back an e-mail with the writer's return address, figuring that would help jog his memory, and asked if it did.

"Nope. Why did you think it was me/how do you even know of me/how did you track me down?"

Detecting a note of anxiety, I hastened to reassure him, outlining my methods and motivations.

Our correspondence ended a couple of e-mails later, once we had determined he wasn't the correct Matt. Then I did something I should have done in the first place: I went to www.switchboard.com and typed in Matt's name. Bingo. I called and left a message.

A few days later, Matthew No. 2 called me back. We talked for a while - it turned out he had met Betty while working on a kibbutz in the 1970s, but they had lost touch. He had never made that trip he wanted. Instead, Matt had left the lab rats and took a job as a secondary-school science teacher. He had a wife and child, and like his doppelnamer, yearned to go back overseas. He still lives in the same area as the postmark on that old envelope.

We talked about genealogy and life in Israel before he asked if I could mail him the letter he had written so many years ago.

That happened a couple of weeks ago. I wonder what he thought when he received that snapshot of his past. Did it spur him to find some way to make his dream of travel come true? Or did he read it, smile nostalgically over the young man who wrote it, and perhaps tuck it into a book, where someone else will find it years from now...


Vanessa Winans is a writer with the Toledo Blade. To comment click here.

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