by Sally Heineman, October 13, 2004

If every picture tells a story, then the framed faces lining the walls of Love Letters, Inc. in Lombard are worthy of an epic. And Linda Bremner, founder of the non-profit organization, knows every tale by heart.

One of the most positive is the story of the girl who suffers from muscular atrophy and can only move her finger. She was so touched by all the mail she'd received from Love Letters over the years as a young child that she started collecting food for the needy as a way to give something back. Now in college, she still collects thousands of pounds of food each year and has been nationally honored for her fundraising.

Other photos show children in wheelchairs, smiling broadly as they hold up the birthday gifts that volunteers sent them. Some of the children hug teddy bears or Barbie dolls, while others are wrapped in the fleece blankets made especially for them. Sadly, many of the children in the pictures are no longer here, but Linda doesn't forget them, and doesn't give up on the living.

Love Letters began as a labor of love back in the early 80's. Linda's eight-year-old son, Andy, was diagnosed with cancer, and during his hospital stay he received mail from friends and family showing their love and support. The mail stopped, however, when Andy returned home. It was hard, Linda explains, for people to send "Get Well Soon" cards or just a note of hello, and even harder to know what to say to someone who has cancer, let alone a child. Because Andy became sad and disappointed that the mail had stopped, his mom decided to become his secret pen pal.

Andy loved his new notes, and Linda thought she was fooling him. But one night he drew a picture and rolled it up, making her promise to send it to his secret pal but not to look at it. After he had gone to bed, Linda opened it. At the bottom of the page he had written, "P.S. Mom, I love you." He had known all along that it was her sending him the notes. They never spoke of that night again, and Linda continued her work as his Asecret pen pal. Four years after being diagnosed, Andy died in August of 1984. He was 12.

After his death, Linda found a shoe box filled with what Andy had called his "love letters", as well as an address book with the names and addresses of kids Andy had met at a camp for cancer patients. Linda wanted to write one letter to each of the 20 names on his list, but before she finished she received a note from one of the children. He wrote, "Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing. I didn't think anyone knew I lived." Linda said she felt this said so much about the desperation, loneliness and isolation these kids endure on a daily basis, and she knew what she could do about it. Love Letters was born.

Love Letters is staffed completely by volunteers and funded solely on private donations and without federal, state or corporate funding. The Windy City BMW Club is the largest sole donator. The organization currently sends mail to more than 1,200 kids, ranging in age from 1-21 and living in all 50 states. Some have cancer, leukemia, MD and AIDS, and some illnesses that are so rare people haven't even heard of them. Others are burn victims, transplant recipients or accident survivors. Each child on the list receives gifts at Christmas, Christmas in July and their birthday, and a card or letter every week. There are no fees for these, but rather each piece of mail is sent as a "gift of love". Data on every one of the kids is kept on file - their age, sex, skill level, interests and what they've received in the past. Some are harder to buy for than others, such as the 18-year-old boy who only weighs 36 pounds, the older child who only has the skill level of a six-year-old, and the many who have limited mobility. But no one is left out or forgotten.

The office space in Lombard is incredibly small for what Love Letters accomplishes. Wrapping paper, boxes, and crates of cards and gifts line the shelves along the wall and in the aisles. Pictures and thank-you notes are hung up as reminders of why the volunteers do what they do. Hundreds of packages are stacked to the ceiling, addressed and ready to be mailed. Boxes for Christmas are prepared months in advance. The majority of the monetary donations are used for postage and supplies, with the rest going to rent and utilities. Linda's 86-year-old father, the official wrapper, measures each piece of paper so nothing is wasted. Other volunteers are filling boxes with small gifts and the all-important confetti. That, too, has a story, one that best sums up what Love Letters is all about.

"We call her our Confetti Mom", Linda says about the mother who sends a check every year to the group for confetti, that shiny, almost annoying stuff that you can put in cards, letters or gifts. Love Letters had been sending mail to her daughter until she died at the age of 6. She always loved opening up the brightly wrapped packages to see what was inside. The mother explained that shortly after her daughter's death, when she was cleaning the couch cushions, she found some of the confetti from an earlier present and remembered how much she and her daughter had laughed, the confetti had gone everywhere when her daughter opened the box, even in her hair and underclothes. "It gave her something good to remember and smile about", she said. She asked that Love Letters always put confetti in their packages. She told Linda, "You don't just make smiles, you make memories."

Sally Heineman

Pictures from visit to Love Letters