"K.I.T. (heart)!" is how my classmates and I would sign each other's yearbooks in high school. It was our effort to encourage one other to "keep in touch" despite being separated during the summer vacation.

With relatives scattered across North America, it is paramount for my husband and I to bridge physical distance and K.I.T. with our 'ohana. However, the mode of communication varies with each individual member.

Keeping the post office in business are elderly relatives like my paternal grandmother. At age 94, e-mail is not an option; she still prefers radio to television.

Having lived back in the day when long-distance calls were exorbitant, my grandma has never dialed our number. We have tried giving her a prepaid calling card with no success. Even when we phone her, she, like others of the same generation, does not linger longer than necessary.

Instead, what flows between us is a stream of letters. My grandmother's lovely penmanship, which could win prizes for both English and Chinese, is easily recognizable among the mail's other word-processed missives.

Likewise supporting the written form is my mother. However, she has fully embraced e-mail; her messages account for about 25 percent of my personal inbox. Due to my mom's peculiar habit of acting as the personal clipping service for our family, many of these messages are forwarded articles which run the gamut from the origins of origami to the benefits of vitamin B6, to how the environment is contributing to the decimation of avian species. When my brother and I were younger, the achievements of other people seemed to be the subject of choice; now that I have a toddler, I receive a preponderance of pieces on health and childcare.

Clippings arrive like clockwork, not only in my inbox but via regular mail as well. It would be amusing except for the sheer magnitude; my brother and I can only sigh and redouble our efforts to speed read. If anyone asks why my toddler, imitating me, often appears to be "reading," or how in just one plane ride I am able to finish a Harry Potter tome, credit is due to my mother's training.

Skilled at K.I.T. is my brother, who connects with all of us via landline, cell phone, e-mail, snail mail and even — following in our mother's footsteps — assorted articles. His tech-savvy wife, glued to her computer at home and work, wonders when the rest of us Luddites will begin to IM regularly.

Having just signed up for an unlimited long distance plan, my in-laws' preferred mode of communication is the phone. Consummate planners, they schedule their calls in advance, and have a preset agenda of which topics to cover.

For my folks, having inherited the savings mentality of their immigrant parents, use of the phone depends on how much it costs. Evenings and weekends are prime time for chatting, and a surplus of unused minutes means contacting even distant relations.

The only exception was when I left for college, when to my surprise, a calling card was pressed into my hand, parsimoniousness overcome by the desire to K.I.T.

The ways our 'ohana reaches out may differ as much as a handwritten letter does from a webcam. However, the most important thing is that we continue to prioritize communicating with those we love.

To wit, don't quit, take time to K.I.T.

Monica Quock Chan is a freelance writer who lives in Honolulu with her husband and daughter.

Reach Monica Quock Chan at (Unknown address).