Atlanta Airport – 1952, family postcard, Augusta, Georgia, July 2008, photo © 2008 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
I’ve been thinking about the lost art of writing postcards and letters. A few weeks ago, while staying at my uncle’s place in Georgia, I began the long process of scanning old photographs and historical documents for the family archives. I asked my uncle if he would pull out his collection of memorabilia. He showed up the next day with stacks of old black and white photographs. And a wide, faded brown shoebox containing bundles of newspaper clippings, letters, and postcards.
Most of the postcards were to or from my Great, Great Aunt Cassie. My Great, Great Uncle Claude had worked for the Georgia Railroad and they traveled a lot on their vacations. But there was one in particular that caught my eye – a postcard that Mom’s older brother, Jack, had sent her in high school. The postmark was July 24th, 1952. A postcard stamp was only 1 cent back then. One cent.
My Uncle Jack would have been 16 at the time. He must have been on vacation with relatives. On the front of the postcard, where we might now see a digital photograph, was a 4-color illustration of the Atlanta Municipal Airport, the same airport Liz flew out of on her way back to Minnesota from Georgia in July.
In scratchy, adolescent handwriting, he wrote:
Dear Amelia,
I am having a good time here. I have met a lot of girls here and I have
had 6 dates since I got here. I’ve got another one tomorrow night and
Saturday. We are coming home Sunday. We have an air conditioner
here and it is cool.
Love,
Jack
I called Mom after I got back to Minnesota and asked her if she minded if I posted Jack’s card. She lost her brother in 1954, two years after he sent the postcard, only days before I was born. It was the year he graduated from high school. He had been ill with mono but wanted to go and celebrate with his friends anyway. They went swimming at Clarks Hill. He drowned on what is reported to have been a second swim across the lake. His body, still recovering and weak from the mono, must have given out mid-swim.
Mom said she didn’t have any qualms about me sharing the postcard. “No, I don’t mind if you post it,” she said. “We’re open about things like that.” Then, in one last thought, she sounded a little sad. “What did it say?” she asked.
I told her he wrote about what any teenage boy would write about: girls. But what struck me the most was seeing his handwriting; it was over 50 years old. And that he took the time to write, to send Mom a few lines letting her know he was thinking of her.
When we were on St. Simons Island, I looked high and low for postcards to send to friends. I finally found a rack in the corner of a novelty store along the main drag near the lighthouse. It was the same place Liz and I got our soft cotton Georgia T-shirts. But then, there were no stamp machines that sold postcard stamps. And we never made it to the spot on the island where the post office was located. So I waited until I was back in Augusta to mail them.
Postcards are becoming a thing of the past. But I have one writing friend who sent postcards every week as part of her practice last year. And another who sends herself postcards when she goes out on the road to write. She says she has many insights while traveling, jots them down on a postcard, and mails them to herself. After returning home, it centers her to read them – a gift to her creative self.
I am running into handwritten letters at every turn. Boxes turned up in storage with letters from my mother and grandmother. And I’m midway through the letters of Flannery O’Connor; you wouldn’t believe how much I am learning about this great Southern writer (and the South) from reading her letters. Should I begin writing letters again?
I am getting closer. Last Saturday, Liz went to three garage sales; at one she bought me an antique Royal portable typewriter. I started using it that day. At the same sale (it was run by an artist/photographer; she took me back with her later), we bought some vintage vinyl for a quarter a piece, and three great literature books for 50 cents each. One of them was Frida: A Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. It is full of her letters.
Later that day at the studio, I started thumbing through Frida’s biography; sticking out of the middle section, was a faded postcard sent from Colombia. The front of the postcard has a photograph of a Cuna woman in traditional garb. A small 2 was circled at the top; it was the second of a series of three. The title, URABA (ANTIOQUIA) COLOMBIA — India Cuna, was in block print. The handwriting was loopy cursive, written in Spanish. A studio mate read it to me. She recognized the sancocho, a traditional Colombian soup.
I think the postcard is like a letter haiku. Think of everything you’ve learned in brief intervals of 17-syllable haiku from our regulars on haiku (one-a-day). The postcard from my uncle spoke to me; half a century later I gained a glimpse of who he was. I got a postcard from ybonesy that arrived right after I came home from Georgia. Maybe she’ll send me one from Vietnam (smile).
I’m considering a postcard/letter writing practice in the coming months. I want to use the vintage Royal. When is the last time you received a handwritten letter or postcard? If you have insights into the art or practice of postcard and letter writing, please share them with us. All is never as it seems. And life letters only add to the mystery.
Postcard From Uncle Jack, Augusta, Georgia, July 2008, photo © 2008 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.
-posted on red Ravine, Monday, August 25th, 2008
I used to love writing letters. I stopped because no one writes anymore or answers a letter. Email and the telephone (cell) have pushed letters and postcards to the side. I have one friend who travels out of the country several times a year and he always sends a postcard which I post on my idea board. Those postcards are a little like being there with the sender.
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How funny you wrote about the lost art of postcards. I received one just yesterday from my dear SIL who lives in California on the ocean (green with envy) and then goes on an annual trip to Hawaii (greener) every summer.
The postcard was quite retro – an artist’s rendition of a beach with almost everything you would associate with that locale – and I mean everything. Volcanoes in background, woman wearing lei with flowers in her hair playing ukelele, surfboards, out-riggers, palm trees, sandy beach covered with sunbathers. And of course the greeting, “Aloha, Hawaii” written in bamboo letters. Quite the travelogue-postcard-masterpiece.
My SIL always sends our family a postcard when she is traveling. Amusingly, we never exchange any other written messages, and only occasionally talk on the phone.
In typical, wish-you-were-here fashion, she writes:
“We’re relaxing and recuperating. Also picked up my trousseau of Hawaiian shirts for the year. We’ve snorkled from the beach, going by boat tomorrow to a secret place prime with all the exotics. Today enjoying the sun and perfect white beach and reading. You really should come to Hawaii – you’d love it.”
Of course, I would love it! Hawaii is on my list of life to-do’s.
BTW, last night it was chilly here and I wore long underwear to bed so I could keep the window open. Arrrgh! 🙂 Of course Hawaii is on my list – but I’m thinking one of these years in January or February when I really need the heat.
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I love his handwriting, QM. And how he called his sister “Miss Amelia.” So old-fashioned. BTW, have we already exchanged comments on this before: how when I think of Jack’s drowning (based on what you’ve written here and elsewhere), it brings up memories of the death of the older brother in Fried Green Tomatoes? What a sad thing to happen to Amelia and her family. All the more generous, MOM, that you’ve allowed QM to share this postcard. Thank you.
I would love to send a postcard from Vietnam. It might take ages to get to you, but send me your address via email and I will give it a try. I’ll send one to me, too. My new best cat Pants also deserves one.
The Frida book sounds great, as do the other finds. How is it typing on the old typewriter? Is the sound fun? Also, I wonder who the postcard inside the Frida book is from.
OK, signing off now. Sorry so sleepy. (get it?)
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Jackie, I have a friend, too, who traveled around the world a few years ago and would send me postcards from all the different places she visited. I kept them all. She would write cryptic things about the culture and the land and ocean. Really delightful. I agree, the postcards are like being there with the sender.
Bo, what synchronicity that you received a postcard yesterday! You described the visuals beautifully. And I love that you shared what SIL wrote (yes, typical postcard fashion). She must truly be a tropical ocean dweller to go from California to Hawaii once a year. Maybe you’ll be able to join her one day.
It’s been quite cool here in Minnesota the last 3 or 4 days, perfect weather for the State Fair. Breezy, too. Really nice and getting close to Fall, I know what you mean. Still, I think we’ve got one or two hot, humid days and nights left. Though I’ve already heard from the new Farmers Almanac that the winter is going to be a cold one. 8)
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ybonesy, YES, “sorry so sloppy!” (From your letters post link in this piece.) Perfect. 8)
Yes, I remember talking about the brother in Fried Green Tomatoes, how hard it was on his younger sister when he was killed by the train. That was a gut-wrenching scene.
I don’t know why, but this event with my uncle really had an impact on me. It seems to be a pivotal event in the family, a marker of sorts for some big changes to come.
I think I wrote about this before, but last year when Mom and I visited Jack’s grave, I asked her if everyone was sad when I was born because Jack had just died and everyone was grieving. She said, absolutely not. That it was a great joy when I was born, new life in the family, new life in the world. I had a few tears.
It seems like healing is a lot about revisiting things, events, not letting them be forgotten, not letting people be forgotten. Yet letting go at the same time — moving on in the ways that we integrate sad events into a family. We each have to hold it all.
I was surprised to find this postcard from Jack. I thought I had gone through everything I wanted to scan last year (2007) in Georgia and did not see it then. This year — there it was. And we were staying right on Clarks Hill Lake.
I have learned to pay attention to things that keep coming up for me in memories, in the writing, in practice. I don’t know where this one will take me. But I’m paying attention. 8)
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“I have learned to pay attention to things that keep coming up for me in memories, in the writing, in practice. I don’t know where this one will take me. But I’m paying attention.”
Interesting thinking, QM. I do have things that keep coming up, but have not intentionally thought about the recurrences until you pointed it out. Yes, I think I will start paying closer attention too. They do seem to have a way of making themselves known.
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On an island in the galapagos is a postbox. Into that postbox you are invited to post a postcard with an address but without a stamp. And at the same time, to sift through the accumulated postcards to see if there are any postcards to people living near you – and if so, to deliver them.
I was once very happy to receive a postcard that a friend of mine sent in this way. Unfortunately I was out when the person came to deliver the card, so I never found out who they were…
That’s a very poignant story about your uncle, QM… my eldest brother died at about the same age, and I feel it’s particularly sad when someone dies just on the brink of adulthood. They’d grown all their flight feathers, but never quite got the chance to take off…
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Postcards are awesome. My friend sent one from his vacation in Key West this year and it was such a treat. I need to remember to send some when I go to Seattle in October. I don’t travel that much so it is not on my mind, but whenever I get one, I love it and I’ve kept every single one over the years.
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Bo, yes, the repeat patterns — they seem important somehow. You’re a photographer, too, and have you noticed how we are drawn like a magnet to photograph certain subjects? And even when I branch out to something new in photos, the way I capture the angle is very similar. I try to pay attention to the things that draw me as well as the things that repel me. Natalie taught me that that’s where the “juice” is. And in Writing Practice in particular, we end up gravitating back to the same things over and over again. It’s strange. And it’s kind of fun to watch, too.
lirone, it does seem very sad when someone dies on the brink of adulthood. Or even as young children. I’m sorry for the loss of your brother. There was something odd about the way my family reacted when my uncle died. I wasn’t born yet, of course, but the stories are that part of the family blamed my grandmother (as if she could be responsible for something like that).
I think it hit her hard. And it ended up dividing parts of the family. My grandmother lost another child, too, and we visit her grave each summer. I don’t know how parents ever get over the loss of their children, no matter how old those children are. It has to be jarring to the soul.
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goddess, yes, send postcards from Seattle in October! Don’t forget! When I lived in Montana, we used to go over to Seattle (the big city) from Missoula for the weekend just to dance and have fun. 8)
At the last August Full Moon fire, I met a woman who was visiting the Twin Cities — she was from Sequim, Washington (pronounced “skwim”). I think it’s on the Olympic peninsula. Anyway, she said it was the “Lavender Capital of North America.” Have you ever been there?
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Lirone,
I love knowing about the Galapagos postbox.
QuoinMonkey,
When I first started emailing I had trouble not writing it in traditional letter form.
“Dear SoandSo,
How are you? I am fine.”
sincerely,
Leslie
I still write letters, and love to use big sheets of white copy paper.
And going to the postoffice and making everyone in line wait while I pick out my choice of attractive stamps…well, that’s just icing on my cake.
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QM, you have been such an inspiration today. I just spent an hour going through one of four plastic shoeboxes I have filled with postcards. I’ve collected them since I was about 10 years old. All the cards I read today were written in the 80s when my kids were little. (They were ’81, ’84, ’88 babies.)
I have one postmarked the actual day my last child was born, asking how I was doing and how remarking how hard it was to be “overdue” with the third.
Another from my kids’ favorite aunt (SIL mentioned above) who sent them a postcard of the moon and wrote to them: “Believe it or not, I am visiting the Moon. That’s why I haven’t written. Postal service is slow up here. I’ve gotten a nice moon-tan and went crater-hopping.” This was postmarked – oddly enough – from California, but since my two oldest were 7 and 4 they were totally blown away. My 4 year old begged for us to buy a telescope so he could see his aunt on the moon! LOL
Ah, what memories you have rummaged. Now I’m going to have to either do something with this find or start a new postcard project.
What kind of postcard project are you thinking of, QM? Ever consider a group writing project?
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And I was going to scrub all my floors todat and wash baseboards. Ha! That project has been blown to smithereens. I have to go check out another postcard box.
I don’t know whether to thank you, QM, or send you a bill for the cleaning lady I’ll need to hire. 🙂
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leslie, thanks for mentioning lirone’s Galapagos postbox (#7). I completely spaced out that I wanted to comment on how cool that was. I got wrapped up in talking about loss.
lirone, I was trying to think of an equivalent here to the generosity of your Galapagos postbox; I can’t think of any. The closest I can come is leaving favorite books or literature at the bus stop and trusting a HP that they get to the right person. A sort of Random Act Of Kindness thing. Your postbox reminds me of that level of trust in the Universe. Pretty cool.
leslie, when I first started blogging, I left comments that looked like letters with line spaces around salutations and final salutations. It’s kind of embarrassing what I might have floating around out there now. 8) The new kid on the block.
I like your idea of big sheets of white copy paper. Allows for drawing in the margins. 8) Of course, I would use my trademark different colors of Sharpie. And I am also a person who stands in line for the BEST and most visually pleasing postage stamps. Count me in among the icing. 8)
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Bo, I will happily pay the cleaning bill because the treasures you have uncovered today really rock the postcard world. Aunt SIL sounds like a winner. What a great adult to have in your kids’ lives when they were growing up. I LOVE the moon story.
And that postcard from the actual day when your last child was born — wow. You must have quite a collection there if you’ve been collecting postcards since you were 10 years old. That’s so cool.
You definitely have to do a postcard project. I’m still ruminating on my ideas for one. I’m open to what comes. I don’t have it totally formed in my mind yet. But something involving a practice of writing and mailing and using my typewriter and posting things red Ravine.
I like the idea of a group writing project around postcards, maybe inspired by postcards. What does that look like to you?
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ybonesy, I forgot to respond to the rest of your comment (#3):
I would love to send a postcard from Vietnam. It might take ages to get to you, but send me your address via email and I will give it a try. I’ll send one to me, too. My new best cat Pants also deserves one.
The Frida book sounds great, as do the other finds. How is it typing on the old typewriter? Is the sound fun? Also, I wonder who the postcard inside the Frida book is from.
The typewriter is really great. And so LOUD. I had forgotten. I was sitting there clacking away with two other people in the studio, and so aware of what it must have taken to write an entire book with a typewriter! Wow. It’s a lot of fun. I plan to post more on it in days to come.
Mom gave me an old typewriter, too, full-sized, when I was home a few years ago. But it needs a little work and cleaning. I hope to have it refurbished. There’s a guy in town here that does it. The great thing about this small one is I can use it right out of the gate. And it’s in perfect condition.
I’ll send my email address and we’ll see how long it takes for the postcard from Vietnam. I remember when my world traveler friend would send them to me from around the world. Sometimes she’d be back home before I got the postcard. I didn’t mind at all. 8)
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QM, I’m with Bo on this one. This post shot most of my day, though I was able to bake a peach upside down cake this morning! I’m becomming quite the Betty Crocker!
Anyhow, I received a card in the mail yesterday from my father. His birthday was August 19th & I sent him a card. When I called him on the 19th he remarked that he had received my card & told me how much he appreciated it. Well, all of this came about because for Fathers Day I had sent him an e-card. It was a very nice card & I thought he would enjoy receiving it as it was animated & said everything I wanted to say, but instead he thought it was not personal enough. So, yesterday when I opened the mail, there was a card inside from him. It was blank card stock aside from the back, where hand printed were these words, “D, As you can see, I still send cards, even if they are blank. Love Dad”. Inside were photos he had taken when I was there over the Fourth of July. So, I immediately went to my computer & sent him a thank-you e-card. I even mentioned that I thought it was sweet that he had to pay extra postage to send me the photos. I will save his blank card forever as I have saved probably every card ever sent to me! I shouldn’t have sent that last e-card, but I’m sure he got a chuckle out of it.
I think the card from Jack is great & I can’t wait to show this post to J. I know Jacks death was a tough loss for Mom & others. I can’t imagine losing a sibling or a child. 1952, so long ago, but this is a reminder of his life. I find comfort in that. I hope Mom does too. These are the things that keep memories alive, the good ones & the sad ones. D
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QM,
A Royal typewriter? That is one of my dream purchases. Tell me, how will you get ribbons? And will you get ones with both black and red, or just red?
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Guess what, QM? That typewriter I gave you(was it in a case?) I believe it was Jack’s that he was to take to college in Sept. He was already enrolled at Ga. Tech.
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Dear leslie,
I hear there is a specific blog-commenting etiquette that “suggests” not only not using letter form BUT also not even using a person’s name. I remember reading this once back when QM and I started blogging, and I thought it was silly.
I suggest we start a new blog-commenting etiquette that inserts the formality and politeness of letter-formatting into the art of blog. Shall we?
Very much looking forward to your response.
Kindly,
ybonesy
p.s., just now reading some of the comments I missed.
p.s.s., two typewriters for one writer is decadent
cc: QM
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MOM, I didn’t know that typewriter was Uncle Jack’s (#19). That just brings tears to my eyes that it has been passed down to me. It really touches my heart. Thank you. 8) And thank you for letting me post the card. I am grateful to be able to share this part of my memoir process.
Sinclair, I had no idea. The portable Royal currently has a ribbon with both the red and black options. I just love that. It came with two replacement ribbons in their boxes. I’ll have to see what happens when I run out of those. You may be able to find a Royal at a garage sale or on Craig’s List as well. It’s amazing what happens when we set an intention like that. There are openings and the Universe may respond in kind. 8)
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I collect postcards when I travel and have found that the postcard is on the brink of extinction in most areas. I may petition Congress to declare postcards and endangered species.
How happy I am to open my mailbox and find letters from people. I have complained in the past about form letters and before that typed ones, but these days a letter (especially a hand-written one) can make my week.
And the Galapagos Island mailbox…what a great idea and so personal too. You get a postcard and meet a new friend (if you are at home).
Dear Ybonesy,
I wouldn’t care how long a postcard took to make it from Vietnam to Kansas City. What a treat to get it whenever it arrived.
Take care of yourself.
Wishing You Adventures,
Bob
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ybonesy, your letter format cracks me up. That’s kind of the way I used to leave blog comments. I was trained so formally, how to type, how to write letters. There was a format for everything. It’s been hard to break old habits!
Oh, ybonesy, a writer can never have enough typewriters! The other one, the full-sized typewriter I got from Mom (which she now mentions belonged to my Uncle Jack who I write about in this piece) needs some refurbishing. And I plan to take it to a guy here in the Twin Cities who does just that.
In the meantime, I can get started with the portable Royal Liz just gifted me with. And that just thrills me. It’s small and portable and ready to go.
Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if I ended up typing my whole memoir on my Uncle Jack’s typewriter? I’m not saying I have the patience to do that. But I’ve just planted myself a seed. And it’s not even Winter Solstice yet. 8)
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diddy, that’s a great story about the blank card and your dad (#17). He seems like a character. I bet it’s a tradition you’ll carry on with him for some time to come. I’m kind of the same way about cards — I prefer the real thing. But I do like the thought of e-cards and I know a lot of people use them. There’s just something about being able to hold a card in your hand. And you know all the thought that went behind it and the time it took to mail it.
There’s something I didn’t mention in this piece, how my mother and my grandmother are people who always sent cards through the mail. They always took a lot of time to think about the saying inside and took time to mail them. Mom still does that and I sure appreciate it. When she sends me a card, I know how much time went into it.
And yes, thanks for sharing the piece about Uncle Jack with J. I thought he might appreciate it and the legacy and stories that are passed down in the family. There is a lot of sadness that happens in every family — and a lot of joy. It’s all in there. It feels good to honor those in the family who came before us — stories I’d like to keep alive.
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Dear Ms. Ybonesy,
I was so completely delighted to receive your letter of August 27th.
It has been such a long time since we have each taken pen in hand, and put our thoughts to paper and posterity.
(are we feeling the du Maurier vibe here people?)
I entirely agree that a more formal approach to blog commenting would be appropriate.
I am particularly fond of your generous use of a persons name to indicate to whom you are addressing your response.
(quick…somebody check that grammar…)
Though I fear that the trend may not bend to our desires, it by no means should limit our felicitous exchanges.
Yours, in true loving kindness,
Miss Leslie
P.S. I most eagerly await your response, and shall not feel totally at ease until I read your sweet words again, dear ybonesy. Anon.
p.p.s. S.W.A.K. xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
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p.p.s.s.
Having a great time. Wish you were here.
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Dearest Miss Leslie,
It is with fond emotion that I read your letter-blog-comment of August 27, although I must point out that I did not receive it until the morning of August 28. Transcontintental blogging is quite delayed and laborious. It gives me the vapors.
I am going to retire to a swim prior to retiring to breakfast, and then that will be it for my retirements. I shall go to work shortly thereafter and wheretowith, but I shall remember fondly your words and be warmed by their generosity and Dilly bars.
Yours in most felicitous fracas,
Miss ybonesy
p.s., do let Bob know that if he sends me his address via email, I shall also send him a postcard from Vietnam. That goes for anyone who wants a postcard. My email address (such a vulgar thing) is ybonesy@ybonesy.com.
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QM, that is so great to find out that the typewriter MOM gave you was Jack’s. Wow! I now have this image of your fingers flying on the keys and yet Jack’s spirit guiding you.
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ybonesy, thanks. I talked to MOM briefly yesterday about this piece, and it was great to chat with her about it. The typewriter being Jack’s kind of gives me chills. You just never know what’s going to come up in this whole process of memoir. Many, many different connections surface. It really takes you places.
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Dearest Leslie and ybonesy,
So wonderful to hear from you both. Sigh…I’m waxing nostalgic for the letter writing of yore, and finding myself on a quest for the perfect stationery.
Yesterday while lounging about in the bowels of the Minnesota State Fair Pioneer cabin, I stumbled upon a few postcards from Minnesota that I am dying to send. One is in the shape of our lovely state itself.
The helpful postman behind the bars of the letterboxes sold me postcard stamps with exotic fruits on them. Alas, they were much more than one cent. Don’t worry my beloved…I am not deterred.
I’d love to hear from you both again, as your letters bring the most delightful edge to my day. I’ll try to get this one in the post before noon.
In loving wonderment,
QuoinMonkey
P.S. The post office visit proved most fruitful, as I also received a Sesquicentennial medallion from the kind postman. It was free with my purchase of postcards.
P.S.S. When can you come to visit?
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I’ve been meaning to post my comments about this, but I never got a chance…
Anyway, I’d always loved writing letters!! Sadly, since we’re into text-messaging and email nowadays, the paper trail has definitely been pushed aside. Although I never really tried sending postcards as I don’t travel as much as I would like to since school gets in the way, the idea of postcards is wonderful–same for letters and cards (birthday, Christmas, homemade, etc.). I think keeping postcards from becoming an endangered species is a great idea (Comment #22).
What I love about these types of paper trail (letter, postcard, card) is that the handwriting is fascinating. Not only that, there are the doodles and great stories in them! I don’t know how many people in my life really understand how much I love writing, but as someone mentioned before me, I love opening my mailbox to find letters and cards from people instead of junk mail such as advertising credit cards or mortgage or something utterly useless and wasteful (look at all the plastic and trees we’re killing!). Getting a letter or a card from someone is like getting a small Christmas present!! 🙂
I’m trying to remember when was the last time I’ve received a handwritten letter… Maybe a year or two ago, I believe? I know for sure it was during the Christmas holidays. And as I mentioned already, I’ve never received postcards, but I received cards! 😀
You got me thinking about the art and practice of writing letters/postcards. I’ll post a link in the comments after I gather my thoughts! I hope it is helpful to you as people have told me that they love my letters and cards! 🙂
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Okay, I’m back! Here’s the link:
http://alotus-poetry.livejournal.com/19563.html
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a~lotus, great essay and response to The Dying Art Of Letter Writing (Postcards From The Edge). I just checked out your piece and left a comment. You reminded me of how wonderful it is to run into old love letters from your parents. I liked your list of tips, too. Hope our readers check out your link (#32).
You mentioned how we have to slow down to write letters and postcards and that’s really true. Everything moves so quickly these days, we almost have to make ourselves just stop — and take time for what’s important to us. Something becomes a practice when we do it often and slow down enough to pay attention when we are doing it.
I was inspired by breathepeace’s year-long postcard practice. I’m not sure yet what form my practice will take around the postcards and letters. I’m still thinking about it. But I’ve been inspired by reading all the comments on this post, ways that others respond to letters. I’m holding it all, seeing where it leads me.
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Thank you!!
And that’s great that you should see where it leads you! I’m sure you will let us know about your letter writing journey! 🙂
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Alo from Hong Kong. I am between flights, just went on a chase to hunt down HK dollars so I could buy stamps and a couple of postcards to send from here to anyone I missed who’d taken me up on my offer. Well, the good news is I found this free internet station. The bad news is I could only withdraw $100 HK and so since I only needed about $10, I dropped that effort.
Anyone who didn’t receive a postcard from me from Vietnam, I am coming back in Nov and will send oodles of postcards then. QM, I did manage to get yours out before I left this morning. It went out today (Tue morning in Asia). Let’s see when it arrives. Sent some to my daughters and husband, too.
TTFN.
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ybonesy, just checking the blog before turning in. Great to see you are in Hong Kong. I look so forward to your postcard. Yep, I’ll let you know when it gets here. Wonder if it will take longer to get to your family in New Mexico than it will Minnesota?
You’ll be home soon. Wow…it seems like you’ve been gone forever. Was this the longest week ever? We went to the studio today and I put my maps of Georgia and the Southeast up on the wall, and the part of the family tree I’m working on. Felt good to be productive. Now, on into a new week. Holy Cow, Batman. It’s September. 8)
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My Dearest Ybonesy and QuoinMonkey,
I fear that I have fallen silent during a most trying time for you both…
You, darling ybonesy, when homesickness finds you in a most regrettable swoon.
And you, our precious QuoinMonkey, when fried macaroni and cheese just may take you from us.
I cannot endure the thought of the pain that each of you are forced to bear.
Ybonesy, your return to us is eagerly anticipated.
QuoinMonkey, I can only hope that you will not be forever lost to us at the fair…
Until we all meet again, my dearest ones,
with fondest of wishes,
Leslie
p.s. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d lost my mind 🙂
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My dearest Miss Leslie,
I am blessed by your virtual presence even if it comes post-haste my homesickness. And alas, now I shed a tear for my longing for that precious place from whence I’ve come.
I do pray that your temporary insanity is, indeed, of the temperal nature, lest we must commit you to the sanitorium. However, rest assured that if we take thee to such inhospitable place, I shall ship an adequate supply of Dilly Bars.
Please let QM know that I am at last home. I was quite fortunate to be uplifted into Business Class in one of the modern airplanes flown by that United Company, and my seat thus did transform into a bed. Quite the exemplar of human ingenuity.
I feel rather rested, and my goal tonight is to ambulate and remain festive until the gods tempt me to the deepest sleep, hopefully not before the hour of 9 pm. Thus, I shall resist that other temptation, which is one toward laggedness of jet travel.
Sincerely and with the slightest tinge of sleepiness,
Miss ybonesy
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Y’a know…Scarlett O’Hara can’t hold a candle to these swoonin’ letters.
They may have ben more genteel times back then, but the ka-ka ran deep! 🙂
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Hey, QM, my year-long postcard writing practice has become more of a life-long one. Those who appreciate receiving postcards the most are my nieces and nephews in college. Some even send postcards back — a bonus to the practice!
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I really like what you said about how healing is connected to revisiting; -not letting people be forgotten. And that postcard from Jack, the whole story… that is sad and touching and kind of beautiful to see his writing now.
Someone close to me will soon be going into an intensive training school, far away. We are worried how that will affect us when there will be so little time to spend, but we decided to make it a part of our story together. We will write letters and keep the faith and be patient like so many people have done through the eons when they had to send a loved one far away.
And I kinda like that we can have the opportunity for that old fashioned romance. I have been slowly, carefully looking for cards, photographs, unusual stationary- tidbits to create a path through our time apart.
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Dearest leslie, well, I survived the mac and cheese on-a-stick — slipped by on a noodle. Maybe we have all lost our minds. 8)
It was amazing how writing these short letters led us to fall into that dramatic style of writing you sometimes hear in old black and white movies. You know, in reality, the letters I found that were written mostly to my Aunt were definitely more formal than we would write today — but they were very sincere, often around times of funerals or Holidays. A genuine longing to be near her.
But it sure is fun to fall into swooning mode. And it can be so poetic, can’t it? Perhaps I’ll come back for another round later, lest my letter writing skills fall asunder.
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breathepeace, I had wondered about that. I’m glad to hear that your year-long postcard writing practice has become one that will last a lifetime. I am suspecting that to be true for me of the haiku and also the mandalas. There is something about a peaceful practice that becomes integrated with daily living. And to receive postcards in return, a great bonus.
I have collected quite a few postcards now. I’m debating whether to start a new practice like that at the first of the year though, after I complete the other three year-long practices I have going. I want to finish a whole cycle of those before starting something new. I’m still holding it all.
I do have the postcards I collected in Georgia out on my art table in the studio. They inspire me in different ways.
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amuirin, your comment really touched me. It was the handwriting in Jack’s postcard that really got me. The first night my Uncle brought the box home in July and I started to go through everything, I stumbled on that postcard — and looked at the handwriting — and tears started to trickle down my cheeks. It choked me up to see his handwriting, to know those letters rolled off of his 16-year-old hand.
Letters really are a beautiful thing. I was also touched by your carefully seeking cards, photographs, stationery so that you can keep in touch with your loved one, and have that old-fashioned kind of romance. It will become part of your story together. I love imagining that, especially in this day and age.
Yes, I have no doubt — You will write letters and keep the faith and be patient like so many people have done through the eons when they had to send a loved one far away. I just know you will. Thanks for your beautiful comment.
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[…] after I did the piece on postcards and letter writing, this arrived for Mr. Stripey Pants — a personal note from Dick Van Dyke himself (did you […]
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That’s a sad story about the uncle you never met. He sounds like a really cool guy, with a lot of enthusiasm for life. He just had to swim that second time across, God love him.
I’ve been writing to my son since he’s gone away for college, but only receive emails in return. so I’m printing out the emails to save. There’s no handwriting, true, it takes away the personal touch. But at least I’ll have a memory, or a record of the time.
wonderful post, as usual, QM.
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christine, just catching up from the weekend. Thanks for your kind words. It *is* a sad story. You know what’s strange? I was looking through some photos in the studio last night of when I was in my 20’s in Montana — in one of the photos, there I was, wearing a green jacket that Mom had given me that belonged to Jack. I think I still have it in a box somewhere. (It would never fit me now! I was much thinner and more fit then!)
But it struck me how that event really did impact me from a young age. And how I wanted to be close to him. Mom still has a portrait of him that I think my grandmother had commissioned. And she also inherited his 1954 Pontiac with an amazing Chief Pontiac hood ornament. I always loved that car. He had just gotten it for graduation.
It’s wonderful about your son and the letter writing. The next generations are email generations for sure. It’s so great that you are writing to him at college. His emails back are the letters of his time. Something great about typing emails is how much more a person can write in half the time. Sometimes we are able to capture more detail and memory from typing.
I’m glad you print out his letters. Maybe someday someone in the next generations of your family will discover them in a dusty shoebox in the attic. And write a post about letter writing. 8) Thanks again.
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[…] -related to post: The Dying Art Of Letter Writing (Postcards From The Edge) […]
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I received a beautiful postcard from Mark Twain yesterday. Just a couple of lines. It was forwarded by a caring writer friend. Liz got to the mailbox first and it was the first thing she showed me when I walked in the door. She held it up with a big grin. Wonderful photograph of Mark. It made my day. I may have to post it sometime.
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[…] (which oddly I remember looking more like this 1953 Chieftain Catalina). I remember the car well. Uncle Jack died unexpectedly a few months before I was born and my mother inherited the Pontiac. It would figure prominently in my early childhood memories. I loved the that Pontiac looked and […]
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Found this post while googling for ‘the lost art of letter writing’ (I’m about to write an article about it) – much food for thought. Thank you. If you ever fancied submitting some work to my blogzine I’d be glad to see it!
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Cool that the google search led you here, fiona robyn. I just went back and read this post and all the comments. Really great stuff here. Looking forward to seeing your article about the lost art of letter writing.
Hey, got a postcard last week from a fellow blogger—it was a real treat.
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fiona robyn, thanks for stopping by and commenting on this post. It’s a rich topic, lots of different approaches. I saw that your first book is related to the concept of letters from the past. Great to see writers getting their work out there.
ybonesy, this is a great thread of comments. Kind of fun. I just went back and read them, too. I’ve got a stack of postcards I’ve collected over the last few years. Still haven’t fully committed to the practice of mailing them next year. I haven’t landed on what practices I want to commit to for a full year. I’ve still got a little time to ponder. 8)
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[…] love this photograph of Mom and her brother, Jack. She is 4 years old. I have found that in many of the family photographs, she is often by […]
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[…] Thanks for taking care of Sony. I’m sure she’s enjoying it. We’ll be in late to pick her up. More then. yb -related to post: The Dying Art Of Letter Writing (Postcards From The Edge) […]
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http://www.letter-exchange.com/ (LEX) is a magazine devoted to the art of letter writing. Find great letter writing pals through LEX.
I linked your post to my blog. Great writing!
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Cindy, what a wonderful penpal site LEX seems to be, hooking up people that wish to exchange paper letters through snail mail. And looks like they’ve been doing so since 1982. I also saw a connection to North Oaks, Minnesota at the bottom of LEX. Not too far from home. Thanks so much for stopping by this post and for linking to red Ravine. Much appreciated!
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[…] -related to posts: Art & Architecture – 2 Reasons, WRITING TOPIC — MEMORIES OF CARS, The Dying Art Of Letter Writing (Postcards From The Edge) […]
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[…] I found this blog post today. Possibly related posts: (automatically generated)Something Old, Something […]
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[…] to posts: The Dying Art Of Letter Writing (Postcards From The Edge), You Can’t Go Back, WRITING TOPIC — MEMORIES OF CARS, WRITING TOPIC — 3 […]
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[…] -related to posts: Best Of BlackBerry 365 — First Quarter SlideShow, BlackBerry 365 Project — White Winter Squirrel, Flying Solo — Dragonfly In Yellow Rain, Searching For Stillness, icicle tumbleweed (haiga) — 2/52, The Mirado Black Warrior, The Dying Art Of Letterwriting (Postcards From The Edge) […]
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[…] When we visited the Trumpeter Swans in Monticello a few weeks ago, we ended up going for pie and coffee at Cornerstone Cafe. But not before we checked out the local thrift shop and a new antique store that opened just around the corner. Liz and I were drawn to a table of vintage postcards, much like the postcard from Atlanta that my Uncle Jack sent to Mom in 1952. […]
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