A woman fell into a manhole and died on Fifth Avenue in New York City a few weeks ago. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Like most New Yorkers, I walk over manholes every day without giving them a second thought. They’re part of the landscape, as ordinary as sidewalks and watching dogs poop on said sidewalks. But after hearing about this tragedy, I found myself looking down with each step. Suddenly, something I had always assumed was safe no longer felt guaranteed.

And it made me wonder: when something is broken (really broken) what can we actually do about it?

We all get outraged. The cost of prescription drugs. Garbage on the streets. A dangerous intersection. A local park falling apart. Most of us vent to friends or post on social media and leave it there. But there’s another option: write a letter.

How did writing to lawmakers even start?

The right to petition government is so important it’s protected by the First Amendment. Long before email and social media, Americans wrote letters to their elected officials about everything from civil rights to crumbling sidewalks. A single letter rarely changes history, but thousands often do.

Does writing to your lawmaker actually work?

The short answer is yes. Legislative offices track constituent communications carefully. Staff members log calls, emails, and letters and report trends back to elected officials. Personalized messages carry more weight than form letters, especially at the local and state level where officials represent fewer people.

Will one letter change a politician’s deeply held beliefs? Probably not. But it can elevate an issue and show lawmakers what matters to voters.

Three tips for writing a letter that gets read

1. Get to the point immediately Don’t bury the reason you’re writing in the third paragraph. Start with it. “I am writing to urge you to support Resolution 455.” Or: “I am a resident of your district and am concerned about pedestrian safety following the recent manhole tragedy in Manhattan.” Staff members process hundreds of messages. Help them understand your position right away.

2. Make it personal Facts matter, but stories are memorable. Explain how an issue affects you or someone you know. Personal experiences help lawmakers understand what statistics look like in real life.

3. Keep it short A letter doesn’t need to be long to be effective, in fact, shorter is often better. Stick to one issue. One page is plenty. Be respectful, clear, and specific about what action you’d like the lawmaker to take. Think of it less as writing an essay and more as making a compelling case.

As someone who has spent years collecting, reading, and writing letters, I sometimes wonder whether we’ve forgotten how powerful they can be. Not just for staying connected or preserving memories, but for actually making change.

The next time something makes your blood boil, consider writing to the person who might truly have the power to do something about it. You may not get the outcome you want, but democracy works best when citizens participate. And sometimes that participation begins with a few carefully chosen words. And a stamp.

With love (and one eye on every manhole I pass),

P.S. If there’s an issue bothering you, whether it’s prescription drug prices or that neighbor who never picks up after their dog, here’s where to find and contact your elected officials: usa.gov/elected-officials. You may be surprised by how good it feels to move from frustration to action.

SONG OF THE WEEK

Dear Mr. President by P!nk

Thanks for reading A Love Letter to Letters! This post is public so feel free to share it.

My sweet niece.

I remember the day you were born. So tiny. When you cried, we said, “What lungs on her,” having no idea that one day you would be belting out show tunes from the stage. Or singing a cappella. Or, let’s be honest, occasionally yelling at your younger brother.

You are graduating this week from the University of Massachusetts Amherst (my alma mater, thank you very much), and I am so proud of the hardworking, intelligent, beautiful, and compassionate woman you have become. Anyone who meets you is immediately drawn to you, but it’s your kindness that stays with them.

I remember carrying you in a sling on the NYC subway when you were a baby. You faced outward, and in that crowded car your infectious smile made everyone smile right back. You’ve been working a room ever since.

Uncle Mark shared his love of theater with me, and wanting to pass that along, I took you to see Dear Edwina off-Broadway when you were young. I had no idea that one day you'd be the one on the stage.

Your voice continues to develop—stronger, richer, more expressive—and it truly touches people. I hope you keep following that path, one that started with being brave. Literally.

You were eight when you sang Brave, standing there, small but steady. Minutes before you were in tears, nervous and ready to quit. But you didn’t. Then, ten years later, there you were, standing center stage in Mamma Mia, singing your heart out as the lead.

Different stages, same courage.

That kind of bravery—the kind that shows up again and again—is something special. Hold onto it. Nurture it. Stay brave, even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard. The journey won’t always be smooth. There will be highs (so many highs), and there will be lows. That’s part of it.

There will be people who praise you, and people who criticize you. You’ll hear glowing feedback and not-so-glowing feedback, rave reviews and… let’s call them “learning opportunities.” Take what’s useful. Let the rest go. Don’t let any of it pull you too far off course.

Paige’s head shots from nursery school to high school senior. (They’ve been on my fridge for years.)

Keep singing because it makes your heart sing. That is the goal, always. Adulthood has a way of trying to grind you down, so don’t lose that fearlessness. (Like you sang, you’re not afraid of anything.) It will carry you far.

As you step into this next chapter, know that your family is right behind you, cheering you on, and bragging about you whenever we get the chance.

With love (from your very proud aunt),

P.S. Hope you save this letter. One day, you’ll understand why I kept so many of mine.

P.P.S. For everyone reading this, in honor of National Stationery Week, maybe it’s time to pull out a pen, some paper, and write a letter to someone who wouldn’t expect it. Who will you send one to?

SONG OF THE WEEK

Dear Me by Kesha

I love when a movie gets me choked up, especially on an airplane. There’s something about being suspended in the sky, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Tears running down my face, a flight attendant pausing to ask if I’m alright, the stranger next to me quietly offering a tissue. It’s a whole scene.

And it happened last night, on my way home to New York City from Seattle.

This time, the culprit was The 35-Year Promise, a moving story about an elderly Japanese man who is illiterate. Shortly after marrying as a young man, his wife writes him a love letter. Too ashamed to admit he can’t read it, he takes the letter, hides in the bedroom…and eats the paper, hoping somehow to understand the words.

Eventually, he confesses. His wife, instead of reacting with anger or disappointment, responds with something far more powerful: understanding. She promises to be his hands, to sign his name, to carry that burden with him for the rest of their lives.

Decades pass.

This is exactly what people write in their letters to me. ;)

At 65, after retiring from his job making sushi, he decides to go back to school to learn how to read and write, with one goal in mind: to write his wife a love letter of his own.

He succeeds.

And her reaction… I won’t spoil it for you. But I will say this: somewhere between 30,000 feet and the beverage cart, I was undone.

The movie reminded me of something we don’t talk about enough: the quiet, enduring power of expressing love in a letter. Not a text. Not a quick “thinking of you,” but something intentional. Something you can hold. Re-read. Return to. Maybe not taste but feel.

A letter says: I took the time.A letter says: You matter enough for me to slow down.

It made me think about the hundreds of letters I’ve kept over the years; folders filled with words from family, friends, and lovers, dating back to 1978. Some are folded so many times the creases are permanent. Some, the handwriting alone is enough to make me choke up without even reading the words. All of them hold a version of me, seen through someone else’s eyes.

As I’ve been rereading them while working on my next book, I’ve realized something: they are proof that I was loved, missed, thought about long enough for someone to put pen to paper. And that feels like its own kind of love letter.

That’s why this movie hit me so hard. In a world where everything is instant and fleeting, love—real love—asks us to pause. And when we write it down—or read it—we get to stay there a little longer.

With love (and a wad of used tissues in my pocket),

P.S. Who would you write a letter to if you let yourself pause long enough?

SONG OF THE WEEK

Love Letter by Nina Nesbitt

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.

A Love Letter to Letters is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

For thousands of years, wax seals served both a practical and symbolic purpose. They protected letters from being opened in transit while also acting as a personal signature through engraved crests, initials, and meaningful symbols.

Kathryn shares how she first discovered wax seals while traveling in Italy and how that curiosity grew into a deep interest in antique seals and their history. Today she designs modern seals and beautiful sealing tools through Kathryn Hastings & Co., continuing a tradition that has connected people through handwritten correspondence for centuries.

If you love handwritten letters, stationery, and the rituals that once accompanied sending a message across distance, this conversation offers a fascinating look at the artistry and symbolism behind the wax seal.

In This Episode

• The history of wax seals in letter writing• How wax seals functioned as security and signature• The symbolism behind common seal motifs• How antique wax seals became collectible objects• How Kathryn began designing her own seals and étuis

Links & Resources

• Kathryn Hastings & Co: https://kathrynhastingsco.com

Happy New Year!

On December 31st, I wrote my 365th letter, one for every day of the year. The resolution was complete.

And then January arrived. The month known for self-love and performing habits meant to support emotional, mental, and physical health. Drink more water. Set better boundaries. Become a better version of yourself.

Instead, I reached for my pen.

I didn’t have to anymore. The resolution was accomplished. The streak had ended. There was no promise left to keep. And yet my hand moved toward the stationery without debate, as if the decision had already been made.

What I finished last year, I realized, wasn’t a practice. It was a gift.

When I began this project, I framed it as a challenge. It felt slightly unhinged and very specific, which is usually how I know something might matter. I assumed it would be about discipline, output, maybe nostalgia.

What I didn’t expect was how quickly it stopped feeling like a task and started feeling like something I was doing for myself.

Handwriting slows you down. The pace of the pen keeps you honest. Some days the letters were long and reflective; other days they were brief, even awkward. But every day, they required presence, and disconnection.

To write a letter, I had to step away from screens, notifications, and the low-level hum of the internet. In that forced quiet, something unexpected happened: real connection took root. Not just to the people I was writing to, but to myself.

I began to see the letter writing for what it truly was: an act of self-love. Not the performative kind January so often sells us, but the quieter kind—choosing slowness, choosing attention, choosing to be fully where I was. Sitting at a table. Holding paper. Letting my thoughts arrive without interruption.

That time away from my phone began to ripple outward. I reached for paperback novels again instead of ebooks. I started drawing, just to see what would appear on the page. I noticed how much calmer my mind felt when it wasn’t constantly being pulled elsewhere.

The mailbox became a measure of time. Replies arrived weeks or months later, or not at all. I learned that silence is also a form of correspondence. That was part of the lesson.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking Did I write today? and started asking Who am I connecting with right now? When the year ended, I expected closure. What I felt instead was a brief pang of fear and sadness, that I might lose something that made my heart sing.

And then I realized: who says I have to stop?

I can see now what I couldn’t name then. This practice was never really about letters. It was always about self-love, disguised as correspondence.

As this new year begins, I’m thinking about how to protect that feeling, how to build on what the letters gave me. I don’t have a new daily quota, but I do have an intention: to spend less time on my phone, to treat my time with more care, and to let writing letters, reading real books, and making things with my hands continue to guide me.

I’m still writing letters because they remind me that connection doesn’t have to be immediate to be real. That some of the most meaningful conversations happen off-screen, in ink, over time.

With love (and 51 Substack posts still waiting to be written this year),

Felice

P.S. What self-love habits do you practice or hope to begin this year?

Editor’s note:If you’re new here, welcome. I began this space as a way to document a yearlong letter-writing ritual, but it has become something slower and more intimate: reflections on connection, presence, and the small practices that shape our days. I’m glad you found your way here.

SONG OF THE WEEK

Letters on the Kitchen Table (song is at the top of this post) by, well, me! Kind of. I created it on AI. Does that count? A little? Hope you like it. Next stop: The Grammys! Look out Lionel Richie.

ATTENTION BOOK LOVERS: Your Dream Cruise Is Here!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.

Drumroll please… I’m proud to announce that I have accomplished what I set out to do 364 (tomorrow will be 365) days ago: I handwrote one letter every day in 2025.

Unlike my half-year summary back in July, where I gave stats, and wrote about what I learned and what I got from this handwriting journey (all of which are still true), for this end-of-the year summary, I’ve decided, along with the final stats, to include a few clips from the letters. These are from family and friends, both old and new.

First, the final stats for 2025

* 364: Number of handwritten letters sent (Tomorrow it will be 365!)

* 116: Number of handwritten letters I received (Majority are spread out in the video!)

* 122: Number of responses I received to my letters by email, text or calls

* 24: Number of different states I mailed letters to

* 3: Number of different countries I mailed letters to

* 8: Number of letters that came back “Return to Sender” (since resent!)

* 61: Total estimated hours spent writing letters (approx. 10 minutes per letter)

* 7: Number of letters I received NOT initiated by a letter from me, but motivated by my letter quest. (And yes, each received a handwritten letter back.)

* $288: Approximate amount spent on stamps (Note: while there was a cost of stamp increase in July, I had forever stamps, many of which were gifts from family and friends.)

* Priceless: Value of this experiment (the same as in July.)

Clips from Letters I received in 2025

“My summer was good. Mom turned 97 and is still a pain in my butt, but she’s still chugging along like somebody a decade or two younger!”

“Greetings from London!”

“I saw an exhibit of Jane Austen’s letters in honor of her 250th birthday. One was a letter written to her niece that was written completely backwards. They didn’t have TV back then so I guess that was considered entertainment.”

“The handwritten letter is a lost art, I’m glad you’re bringing it back.”

“I have a sweet, tiny little house in a beautiful place on the coast of Maine, about an hour north of Portland.”

“Your 2025 letter writing campaign inspired me so that I took the proactive approach of reaching out to you first… I thought this would be a great time to let you know that I find you and your family very inspirational.”

“Waiting for your letter made me check my mail way more than I normally do.”

“I am reading a book, The Correspondent, that made me think of you. The story is told via letters she wrote and received.”

“This is the first letter I’ve written in 50 years!”

“I would like to play tennis or pickleball with you. Let’s stay friends.”

To everyone I wrote to—whether you wrote me back or not—thank you for being part of this crazy, but special journey.

The best outcome is that I feel more connected to the people in my life, something that Facebook (or any social media) just cannot do.

With love (and a renewed enthusiasm to keep writing letters (maybe not everyday) in 2026),

Felice

P.S. Do you have a resolution for 2026? Please share!

SONG OF THE WEEK

Dear Friend by Wings (Paul McCartney)

ATTENTION BOOK LOVERS: Your Dream Cruise Is Here!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.

Thanks for reading A Love Letter to Letters! This post is public so feel free to share it.

I am thankful for you. Truly. This is my 44th Substack post, and you’ve stayed with me: reading, responding, cheering me on, and reminding me why I sit down each week to write. Your comments, your suggestions, your stories, and especially your letters back to me have meant more than you know. They are, without question, my favorite gifts.

A Love Letter to Letters is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Thank you to everyone who has subscribed and supported this Substack. Thank you to the friends and family (old and new!) who have sent me stamps, pens, and stationery. These little treasures arrive like tiny nudges from the universe: Keep going. Keep writing. Someone is waiting for your envelope.

As the year winds down, so does my 2025 New Year’s resolution: to handwrite one letter every single day. It has been the most unexpectedly meaningful challenge I’ve ever taken on. I didn’t know what I was hoping for when I began, and while the 88 (and counting!) letters I’ve received back are wonderful, the true joy—honestly—has been in the writing itself. In the ritual. In the quiet. In knowing that a simple envelope with a big initial on the front might brighten someone’s day.

People keep asking me whether I’ll keep writing a daily letter in 2026. Given my current inventory of stamps and stationery (and the fact that I’m a minimalist) there’s a good chance I might have to! But even if it’s not one letter every day, I will absolutely keep writing letters. I recently discovered The Sunday Letter Project, a site where people pledge to take time every Sunday to write a letter. Joining it feels like a natural next step.

And don’t worry, this Substack isn’t going anywhere. I’ll continue posting weekly, because there are so many more stories to tell. In the coming months, I’ll be sharing excerpts from the epistolary memoir I’m working on, expanding into more podcasts and videos, and finding new ways to celebrate the beautiful, old-fashioned, utterly human act of putting words on paper.

In this week of giving thanks, I wanted to say it clearly: I am grateful for you. For reading, for writing, for being here.

With love (and mashed potatoes)

Felice

P.S. What are you most thankful for this year? Please share with me!

SONG OF THE WEEK

Stationery by Ryan Tressel

ATTENTION BOOK LOVERS: Your Dream Cruise Is Here!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.

Thanks for reading A Love Letter to Letters! This post is public so feel free to share it.

It’s National Princess Day! Though honestly, I’m not sure I even need to tell you that. At four, every day in your world is Princess Day. You don’t just like princesses, you are one. On any given day, you can be found twirling in tulle, holding court over your stuffed animals, or dramatically singing Let It Go as if your kingdom depends on it. (Which, let’s be honest, it might.)

And let me tell you something, kid: you are very good at being a princess.

A Love Letter to Letters is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

When I was your age, I never dreamed of being one. Not even a little. I never wore a tiara, and not once did I put on a poofy dress just for fun. My ambitions bounced between becoming the first female centerfielder for the Red Sox and making a living with glue sticks and jigsaw puzzle pieces.

But here’s what I love about watching you: you believe, with your whole heart, that you can be a princess. Because it’s fun. Because it makes you feel powerful and joyful and magical. And that, my dear sweet niece, is the very best kind of royalty.

The princesses I grew up with never felt like me. They wore dresses and uncomfortable shoes. They waited to be rescued. And they never talked back to authority (except maybe Ariel, and look how that turned out: no voice and a sea witch situation).

But you, you’re part of a new generation of princesses. Ones who are loud and funny and kind and brave and occasionally covered in cottage cheese. Princesses who get to write their own stories. I can’t wait to see what kind of princess your little sister Colette becomes.

So keep twirling, Ruby. Keep singing at full volume. And know that whether you grow up to be a princess, a paleontologist, a poet, or a professional puddle jumper, I’ll be right here, cheering you on.

With all my love (and a napkin to wipe the cottage cheese off your face),Auntie Felice

P.S. What did you want to be when you were growing up? Write a letter to your younger self. And if you feel brave, share a line or two in the comments. I’d love to read them.

P.P.S. I tried editing out my father’s sneaker in the video, but alas…

SONG OF THE WEEK

My Letter to the Princess by Vylet Pony

CALLING ALL BOOK LOVERS AND CRUISE ENTHUSIASTS!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.

A Love Letter to Letters is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

In honor of National Stamp Collecting Month this October (established by the U.S. Postal Service in 1981 to celebrate stamps as miniature works of art, historical artifacts, and collectibles) I sat down with philatelist Lawrence Cohen, who also happens to be my uncle.

A few of the rare stamps uncle Larry mentions in the podcast.

Larry has been collecting stamps for almost three-quarters of a century. He was featured in The New York Times when he sold a strip of three W.G. Harding stamps for a whopping $172,500 at a New York auction. Did you know that a printing error can make a stamp worth millions? Larry’s specialty is finding beauty (and value) in these so-called “mistakes.”

In our conversation, you’ll hear Larry explain why imperfect stamps are actually more valuable than perfect ones, the story behind that record-breaking Harding sale, and why he believes stamp collecting is the perfect hobby for our distracted times.

We discussed how he got his start collecting stamps at age eight, how he narrowed his focus to imperfect stamps, the most interesting specimens he’s encountered over the years, his advice for aspiring collectors, and much more.

Larry’s appreciation for what he calls “miniature works of art” is infectious. I had a stamp collection as a kid (my grandfather, his father, gave me a booklet and some starter stamps) but I never truly appreciated their beauty the way Larry does.

Talking with Larry reminded me why I started this Substack in the first place. Stamps, like letters, are intimate artifacts: small windows into history, art, and human connection. Each one tells a story about where it’s been and what it carried.

If you’d like to learn more about Larry’s collection, visit his website: https://www.ebay.com/str/wghardingstamps.

With love (first class, of course),Felice

P.S. Are you a stamp collector? If so, I’d love to hear what kinds of stamps you collect and why. And if you collected stamps as a kid and stopped, let me know that too!

SONG OF THE WEEK

Postage Stamp by Jeff Aug

CALLING ALL BOOK LOVERS AND CRUISE ENTHUSIASTS!

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.