This is quite a Sasquatch Sunday. I’ve added several items to The World’s Largest Bigfoot Postcard Collection™ this week, including Pie Grande, the first postcard I have of Bigfoot named in Spanish. (Muchas gracias a Daniel por esta postal de Pie Grande desde Cancun, México.)
It’s funny, collecting Bigfoot cards started out as a lark. It was one of those things where I noticed I had a burgeoning selection of cards with that theme. Then that theme built and built and built. And now I have albums upon albums of Bigfoot postcards and ephemera. I’ve even made podcasts about Biggie, like this one with Jamo, and this one where I talk about my pocket-sized grandfather.
I’d say if you want to create a collection — or a theme of anything on postcards — start with a single card. And declare it so. Start looking. Noticing. Commenting on cards with your theme. And then one day you wake up and find yourself with what could be a world-class collection of postcards. As the saying goes: The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second-best time to plant a tree is today.
Did you see the Academy Award-winning documentary My Octopus Teacher ? It’s like a real-life Charlotte’s Web. But instead of a clever spider, there’s a clever octopus that provides lessons that are unexpected. And true. On the surface, the movie is about a man who found joy and purpose through immersion in nature and a remarkable bond with an octopus. And it’s really remarkable. But it’s deeper than the story of just a diver and an octopus. It’s also about how that man created a connection with his son while he built this deep admiration for an octopus. And that octopus taught him so much.
Postcards, in a way, are my octopus. I’ve been thinking about that a lot. You’ve heard me talk about how postcards connect people. Mainly, I mean that in the sense of one person getting to know one other person. That part holds. But there’s more. It’s deeper than that.
Postcards connect people…as in we’re people of the world. They connect us to something larger.
What made me start thinking about all this? Colors. And a postcard. This podcast is about a group of 10 recent incoming postcards and what I learned from them.
Note: If you would like to read a complete transcript, including substantial research links, please click here.
Do me a favor, please. Leave me a comment about what you’ve learned recently from a postcard. Also, what do you think about a little postcard club to discuss a couple cards you like?
About 550 years after that first Valentine was written, I was a kid, and I used to look forward to Valentine’s Day with great anticipation. I’d bring my bag of Valentines to school, with one signed for each kid in the class. And although the nuns would try to enforce the one-kid-one-card rule, they couldn’t enforce the quality of the cards. Back then, each pack of Valentines (I think there must have been 50 in a pack) had one larger Valentine. If you were sweet on someone, they’d get the bigger card. It was a big deal. Alas, I never got a big Valentine.
Those nostalgic days are gone. But happily, Valentine’s cards aren’t. Here’s a selection of Valentine’s cards from the here and now. And as far as I know, no one sent one from prison. (Although that would be kinda cool.)
By the way, as I was writing this I was thinking about Valentine’s songs. And you know what’s one of the worst songs ever written? It’s Frank Sinatra singing My Funny Valentine. Who in the effing hell thought that was a good song? Or that negging some nice person on Valentine’s Day would be charming? Not me.
Happy Valentine’s Day to you. I hope you find connections every day of the year.
It’s funny how it works with postcards — one day getting a postcard from Africa is true at first light and no longer a lie by noon. It was no mirage that these four postcards arrived in my mailbox on the same day. And they’re all absolutely true, beautiful and believable.
Although we often think about postcards having an image on one side and a message side, there is a type of postcard I like very much: the word card. Here’s a set of seven recent incoming cards to demonstrate what I’m talking about. Each of these postcards has a particular message that was commented about from the sender.
Jeepneys are the Philippines’ most popular form of public transportation, and they are a pure anachronism. They got their start as Willys Jeeps left behind when American GIs departed the Philippines at the end of World War II. Filipinos then began recycling them as buses with bodies made from galvanized or stainless steel, fabric covers instead of side windows, and longitudinally mounted benches with room for 20 (or more) passengers. Those beginnings are still apparent, despite the cheeky Mercedes-Benz stars affixed to the front of many modern Jeepneys.
This postcard took almost two months to arrive in the U.S. from Manila. I wonder if it was delivered on a Jeepney.