Once upon a time, travelers used to send postcards back to friends and family.

Searching through a trunk of photos and mementos recently, I found a stash of old postcards. As we know, postal correspondence is pretty much antiquated these days. They’ve stopped teaching cursive in school. Everything about one’s travel is shared with our Facebook friends in real time on our devices.

There was a time, earlier in my career, when I sent postcards to my nephews and nieces from places I was visiting, always asking them to, “find this place on a globe.” Regrettably, I haven’t done that in many years. It was a cheap way to maintain connection and teach them something in the process. I should start doing that again for my younger relatives, who barely know who I am. Of course, now I’m grounded … but maybe when I start traveling again next year . . . . (will someone please remind me of this promise? I’m afraid chemo brain will forget!)

Here are some of the treasures I uncovered:

Sent this postcard from the State Capitol in Lansing with the big news, “I got a bathing cap and I’m going swimming . . .” (1965)

Another early card sent from the U.P. (Upper Peninsula) in which I reported having learned to water ski. I have no memory of this! (1966)

This was for my parents but addressed to my dog, Muttsie. I was staying with my cousin in Virginia Beach where, from the sounds of it, I wasn’t having much fun. I wrote “I had to keep the kids in line all day. Yesterday we spent most of the day shopping & running errands. Today we clean house.” (1968)

Apparently, dishes were a “thing” back then between me and my brother. I wrote “Tell Bob to quit worrying about me getting out of any dishes because I’m not.”

My elder brother sent me a postcard from Saginaw while I was in Virginia in which he wrote: “Hi Toots, Wish you could be here with us – the weather’s great. The sun came out yesterday! We started the 2nd pile of dirty dishes today. Don’t be gone too long ’cause we’re running out of clean ones. Also, Muttsie needs a bath. If Karen needs any tips on how to handle you – tell them to write to me. Have fun, brother Jim”

I was struck by the similarity of the handwriting in old postcards sent to my parents. All these are from different people. Even without a street number, the mailman still delivered!

I mailed this postcard to my three college roommates during Spring Break in Daytona Beach in 1976. I wrote: “Isn’t this a cute card? We are all burnt to a crisp – spent too much time at the beach! I met some excellent guys from Ohio State – they’re grad students, very intelligent and absolute foxes … no exaggeration! Wait till you see pictures! (Have got some terrific stories!) I’m looking for two others plus a Jewish Buddhist with a small nose for you, Joanne. See you Monday – maybe.”

Same trip, this is what I sent to my parents. “I wrote: “Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not burned.”  And I reference a move to the Aku Tiki Inn, a place that has “real class.” (see below)

The Aku Tiki Inn, Daytona Beach … a really classy place by my standards back then!

From Bermuda, on my very first solo trip director assignment, in which I wrote, “Group arrives today and so far this morning we’ve had an island-wide power outage … no lights, no water and no elevators! Kind of rainy today, which sure is a treat for me, but I’m not sure my New Yorkers and Bostonians will appreciate it. At least everything I have control of is going well!” 

What I didn’t write about on this card from Bermuda is the pure panic I felt when I realized there was no water to wash my hair – after having taken a red-eye flight and spending my entire first day tending to pre-trip inspections and preparations for the group arriving the following morning. Ever the resourceful one, I went down the hall to the ice machine and scooped melted water into my ice bucket, went back to my room and washed my hair in frigid-cold water in the sink! Brrrrrr!

Some entries are humorous for their brevity:

My best friend from high school sent me a postcard from Switzerland in which she wrote: “I’ve been propositioned five times! I appreciate American men much more now.”

From our neighbors from Ft. Lauderdale, “We had a very nice trip and are now enjoying the warm weather. There sure is a lot to see.”

From Hollywood, Florida, some other neighbors wrote, “Having real nice weather and really enjoying the sunshine. Lots of people are down here now.”

And from my older brother, en route to his Jamaica honeymoon in 1969, posted a card from Pittsburg, depicting the world’s largest moveable dome, ‘built at a cost of $22 million, and is one of America’s engineering wonders.’ Jim wrote, “Hi folks, Thought we’d send this card because this is the stadium we saw under construction the last time we were here. Our flight from Tri-City Airport was cancelled so we bussed to Detroit and flew to here. We go on to Miami tonight and fly to Jamaica early Monday morning. Flying is terrific!  Love, Jim & Kathy”

And some postcards inspire great memories. One card that I sent from my first trip to Japan in 1984 to visit friends who were then living there, I wrote, “This country is really foreign and I’m fortunate to be getting an insight rarely experienced by ‘gaijin’ (foreigners). The Japanese have been falling all over themselves with hospitality and invitations, automatic tour guides, etc. Many special festivities and exhibitions in celebration of springtime – I’ve seen things lots of Japanese rarely see. Tremendous artistic culture here, and I’ve had people to explain things to me.”

What was serendipitous about that visit is that one of the young English-speaking students that befriended me on that trip is now my sister-in-law! Some years later, my younger brother moved to Japan to take a teaching position. Because of my friendship with Yoshiko – nurtured and sustained by frequent correspondence after I left Japan – the two of them had an opportunity to meet. They fell in love, got married and are living happily in Matsuyama, Japan with my 17-year-old niece, Seiko.

And some of the postcards are just plain corny:

I sent this to my boyfriend who was working for Waste Management at the time.

In 1979, I got this postcard from someone named Bonnie, of whom I have no recollection! Apparently, I gave her some good advice because she wrote, “Cairo is my first exposure to a developing country and I’m a little overwhelmed at the dirt, noise and disorganization. Have had to keep my sense of patience at hand always. Tonight I feel a little like screaming/crying. I really want to go to India. I’m hoping that this is only a temporary phase – I’ve kept in mind what you said about not making a hasty retreat. Thanks for all your advice.”

How about you? Do you ever bother to send postcards any more??

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