Postcards

     I love postcards! When I was in high school, my friend and fellow camp counselor, Heather, sent postcards to me during the school year. I saved her cards, and many more since then. They now live in a Keds shoebox in the basement.  Recently I dug through them. I think the favorite of the bunch, by far the most sentimental, was from Nicholas. He lived in my neighborhood for a short time when I was in high school. His mother paid me $5 every Wednesday to help him with his schoolwork for 2 hours. She was Hungarian, and English did not come easy. The postcard is from Budapest. His message:  I am having so happy a wonderfull time with my Grandparents and cousins. I am so happy to see them. I miss you see you middle of august or september Love Nicholas. As I read it now, my failings as a tutor are clear.
     I especially love tacky postcards. When I see one, I frown and say "Ghastly." Then I buy as many as I can. My friends have learned to return the favor. One card in the Keds box shows a black and white picture of a male patient's shock at finding a huge lizard on his torso staring at him in the face.  It touts, "Harold's doctor had failed to warn him of possible complications resulting from his vasectomy."  The message on the reverse is this: This card made me laugh and the first person I thought of was you (don't you feel lucky). I really miss talking to you and screwing around with you. School is not the same without you!  Shawn.  So my thrill of the tacky was alive and well in 1993. I can't say I remember much about Shawn now, except he was Canadian and kept cartons of Marlboro lights in his campus freezer. But we did have great times. And despite what the text might suggest, always with our clothes on.
     This love extends to greeting cards. Greeting cards of the tacky variety can be difficult to find. Make no mistake, it can be done. Cole and Kevin, my beloved gays, are really good at it. I received one on Valentine's Day last year. The outside simply says, "I love you like a back alley hooker loves crack." The best part is, THEY MEAN IT DEEPLY and it touches me. I will treasure it always. My sister sent one with a forlorn little farm girl on the outside. The inside simply stated "Amish you."  She did not write on the inside, thinking I could re-use the card. I promptly signed it and sent it to Lynn in Minnesota, who kids me about my "Amish" heritage and has showered me with countless tacky postcards since 1989 when we first became friends. My favorite postcard from her is a picture of the parking lot of Bob Verchota's Railroad Pass Casino with "$1.95 Dinner Buffet" blazing from the marquee.  "Howdy from Nevada" it says. On the back she wrote: Only the best for you. 

     One does not always have to BUY these lovely items, of course. One can MAKE them. And make them I do! Mom, Jo and I sometimes craft together. During one such visit, Jo and I decided to put together a lovely card for Candi. The outside included a lacey Victorian background and a bunny in a dress holding a bouquet of flowers. There were ribbons and shades of pinks and purples to behold. Sweet, yes? The inside included a simple message in Halloweenish letters: W H O R E.  We rocked the kitchen with laughter while Mom furrowed her brow and expressed her concern over ruining a perfectly good card.  This did not stop Mom, mind you, from making a card boldly emblazoned with nut-bearing squirrels for Jo's husband.  The interior message was "Sorry for Your Loss."  The occasion?  His vasectomy.