Neil Young once said his favorite recording media was the vinyl record because of the unique sound it produced.

On those recordings, the imperfections and the flaws made the music real. He went on to say that with digital technology, and the removal of those unintended qualities, music is now almost too perfect.

While vinyl is largely a thing of the past, Neil Young’s reference is reminiscent of another item of eras gone by: the handwritten letter. Nobody sends letters anymore.

Instead, we e-mail, Facebook and Twitter our lives away.

For the most part, long-distance communication is made easier by these instant deliveries.

The thousands of miles separating friends and family is hardly an issue at all now.

In a letter, whatever events spanned the delivery time with snail mail was considered to be old news. Lots of times, you already heard about the things you were reading.

Comparatively, “old news” today could have happened five minutes ago. With cell phones, we can update our digital lives in real time. That means we don’t even wait to get home to add to our Facebook montage.

While the instant gratification of communication is a wonderful tool to keep friends and loved ones in the loop, there is something that gets lost in the process and that is the physicality and emotion of it all.

A letter — it’s a little more personal. It’s physical. And it’s real. You can’t crumple up your computer screen or throw it across the room. Neither can you fold it and put it in your back pocket for safekeeping till later.

The time and effort that went into writing it is clearly evidenced by the Wite-Out and scribbles on the page.

A person’s handwriting is as individual as he or she is, and from a familiar face, adds an extra depth to the reading experience that an e-mail just can’t. Like the sound from a vinyl record in Neil Young’s eyes, the imperfections of a letter make it priceless.

For many of us, sitting down at a computer is part of every day. Sitting down with a piece of paper and a pen is perhaps not so ordinary anymore. Not only do you have to seek out the paper, an envelope and the pen, but you must also buy a stamp and make a point of stopping at a mailbox.

With digital technology, yes, we have choice, but it’s a shallow choice at best. We can “personalize” our font styles, text colors and signature line. But in the end, it still reads the same: An e-mail is equally spaced words and lettering on a page. Then you attach your photos and images.

But even these do not liven the senses. Enclosing photos in an envelope means that when you open it, you get to hold them. You flip through them one by one. You can easily change the angle at which you are viewing them. They are not flat projections on a screen.

Instead of relying solely on sight, you have now invoked the sense of touch.

The fact of the matter is that no matter how many times we check our e-mail or Facebook wall, eventually somebody, somewhere is going to send us something. When was the last time you expected more from your mailbox?

Next time you intend to communicate with that friend of yours living on the other side of the country, go for the element of surprise.

Send a letter, greeting card, postcard, send something. Your friend will thank you.

– Erin Mastre is a graduate student in landscape architecture from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada