"Dear Helen, How are you? Fine, I hope. I am glad I met you and got your address so that we can be penpals. Maybe we can meet again next summer. Well, I don't have any news. Don't forget to write me. Your friend, Mary Jane."

And so it went.

In the first place, we farm kids had little chance to meet a new penpal, although now and again, by some stroke of good fortune, it was possible. And when we had a new penpal to write, we had no concept of how an interesting letter was pulled off.

It was all cut and dried and dull as dust.

We were not really schooled in the art of conversation, much less letter writing, so our correspondence was coveted by no one--proved by the fact that each letter was almost a carbon copy of all the others, including the penpals' letters: "Dear so and so, How are you? Fine I hope." And that was about it.

Dorothy had met a girl her age from Arkansas, and they kept the post office in business about two months.

"Usually," Dorothy admitted, "penpals had a motive."

They were hoping to gain favor and endorsement, by osmosis, to reach a family member whose name was Thomas.

Thomas was young, attractive, unattached, daring and invincible. (He drove at breakneck speed.) He had wavy blonde hair, his own car, and a way with the girls. He also played hard-to-get. You might say he was the James Dean of Carroll County.

So a letter from Dorothy's penpal usually went something like this: "Dear Dorothy, How are you? Fine I hope. How is Thomas? Does he remember me? Would you please tell him about me? I dream about him all the time. Please write back soon. Your friend, Cora Bell (or Susie May). PS: Say hello to Thomas for me."

But I digress.

You included the "How-are-You's;" stark, boring facts; a bit of tittle-tattle; then signed off. But how? It wasn't appropriate to sign your note "ten-four" (the phrase wasn't even in existence). Nor "ciao" (chow). Later would come the "See you later, alligator."

There seemed to be a lack of words conveying greetings and salutations, to indicate one's standing with the missive's recipient--a dearth of ways to say "Hail and Farewell."

Assuming you had your salutation or introduction thought out, your sign off needed some attention. You didn't "Love" someone you'd just met, "Yours truly" was worn to a thread, but "Your friend" was usually safe.

So I sat me down to the task of creating some meaningful signoffs for today's penpals. It came to me that the Victorians were quite good at summing up the letter's aim or general theme and applying it to the closing--and with such flourish--as in: "As ever, your servant." "Yours in great distress about your health." Or "Yours in heartfelt gratitude."

Say a college student wrote home, saying, "Yours in financial distress." Father might answer: "Too bad, how sad. Your Dad."

Or consider a parent writing a child who's overdue for a visit to the family: "Yours, hoping you don't forget the way home." Or from a struggling would-be writer to publisher: "Yours, in fervent hope of publication."

Or a girl to a marriage-shy boyfriend: "Yours engagingly."

Say you've given a gift that is not acknowledged. Try "yours in believing in appreciation and thank you's for gifts, I remain . . ."

In the above case, you need a sign-off that's a fist, not a smile; therefore you might sign simply, "Fed up!"

A mother-to-be, asking by letter to be excused from jury duty, could say: "Yours expectantly."

Charles Lamb had so much to say, he closed with: "I have scarce room to put in Mary's kind love and my poor name. C. Lamb."

Feel stressed at shouldering too large a load? Then finish your note with an example from Florence Nightingale: "Yours furiously."

A reader of one of my columns wrote, taking me to task at some length, but signed his missive, "Best regards." I appreciated his kind closing after the sting of his letter and felt he might have been more honest if he'd closed, with: "Angrily yours!" or "Yours till hell freezes over."

Yes, in trying to convey more muscle than normal, try: "Damn the torpedoes!"

And this was among the unblinking salvos of Admiral John Arbuthnot Fisher of the Royal Navy in 1914: "Yours till a cinder; yours till the angels smile on us."

In answer to someone asking for a loan, write: "Regretfully yours" or "Laughingly yours." But if you don't give a hoot, how about: "Complacently yours."

Good friends? Use: "Yours till the cows come home." In the doghouse? "Apologetically," or "Tearfully yours," or "Errantly yours." Meeting someone on the sly? How about "Stealthily yours," or "Sneakingly yours"?

Are you a trendsetter? Then proclaim it: "Fashionably yours." Selling yourself? How about: "Aggressively yours" or "Efficiently yours"?

Writing a note to a now-and-then romantic? Try "Yours occasionally" or "Temporarily yours." Expecting a big moment? "Breathlessly yours" or "Engagingly yours."

Penpals, there you have a few suggestions by which you may diversify your signoffs.

Your tongue-tied servant.

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