Formality has had a hard time fitting into this brave new world of informality. Whether it’s how we dress, what we say and even what we write, everything has progressively grown more and more loose and unrestricted.

I was very much raised in the formal world as a child. I was taught to address every single adult as “Mr.” or “Mrs.” And if they had an extra tagline to go with it, like “Dr.”, I was to use that, too. At Eastside Christian, the elementary school I attended, I was taught in the third grade how to properly write a letter with all the existing rules and regulations therein. So while other children’s “thank you” letters were about as long as a two-year-old’s first full length sentence, mine resembled a Jane Austen novel.

Mind you, this was the pre-Internet age before Twitter, Facebook, instant messaging, emails and even the proliferation of cell phones (cue gasps).

Since I tend to like structure and order when communicating, the practice stuck with me through the years as all these rules, apparently, were tossed out the window and replaced with a botched, deranged version of Morse Code and socially awkward but culturally hip phrases.

Due to the emergence of smartphones, email has become a much heavily used method of communication, whereas I was taught in journalism classes that phones were the way to go.

The trouble is there are no “unwritten” rules when it comes to the differences between writing a Facebook message, a text message and an email. Or a letter.

So when I write emails, I have a natural proclivity to be as a formal as possible without sounding stuffy or pretentious.

For example, my first week on the job, I referred to city officials in emails as “Mr” or “Mrs.” Within a week, I was informed of my ability to speak to them on a first name basis.

But I still continue to address people with “Dear” and “Sincerely” when corresponding unless I have spoken to them a thousand times already and the level of formality had been cast aside.

Apparently adding two words to the beginning and end of one’s email is too much for my editor, Dennis Box. A few days ago, I was writing an email to someone to set up an interview which he happened to glance at.

With a single hair flip, Mr. Happy transformed into Mr. Grouchy so fast it would have made Dr. Jeckle inquire as to where he could find a doctor giving out that kind of scrip. He reacted to the message as though I had made some horrific factual inaccuracy when referring to a Greek myth.

“What are you, asking them out on a date?” he asked.

“What?”

“What’s with the ‘dear’? Are you dating them, or what?”

Journalists, as some of you may know through interacting with us, are never sarcastic. Ever. Never in a million years. Our profession would fall apart tomorrow if we allowed reporters to be sarcastic, especially with one another.

I therefore took his comment literally and attempted to explain a concept called “etiquette” which a group collectively known as “civilized beings” tend to use when addressing one another in an effort to separate themselves from illiterate savages, i.e. people who text each other when they’re sitting on the same couch.

“We’re not living in the 1800s anymore,” Dennis replied. “You’re a reporter. You’re not writing them a love letter.”

“So sorry for being polite toward people,” I answered. “I’ll do my best not to sound professional for now on.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Don’t you have something better to do right now?”

“……dang it! My mind just froze!”

Despite consuming an entire pot of coffee, the extra dose of caffeine couldn’t help Dennis disprove my main assertion, which is that when it comes to any sort of writing there is no tone and it has to be controlled to prevent misinterpretation. I repeat: There is no tone in writing. You may have a voice or style, but there is no tone. Too many people seem to not understand this, which is how the most innocent of messages can easily turn into a flaming war worthy of Vulcan, or Hephaestus if you’re Philhellenist like Dennis.

Adding a little formality to messages helps prevent one from coming off as blunt or curt. It’s not the pillar of civilization, but it plays its part.

If you happen to share my sentiments, please feel free to let Dennis know at dbox@courierherald.com or at 360-825-2555 ext. 5050.

Be sure to begin with “Dear Mr. Dennis Box.”