The Summer That Betrayed Us

I have not, in fact, been to China. I do miss our trips to Laos and Vietnam though… I need to get out into the world more. Or even away from my desk and back to Brooklyn. Sigh.


As You Were to Your Papa

I’m digging in the vaults here, as I’ve been slacking on sending postcards for a few weeks. I’m now carrying my little case in my purse again, and I’m running out of old cards and postcards to post, so the blog accountability thing is about to kick in. Yay.

I realize as I reread and post this, she must have sent it in 1999, not 1998 as I had thought when I named the image files. I was working at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston both years, but the details in the card only check out for 1999. Really endearing correspondence, this, and nostalgic. Neither my Pop nor my Gram are with us now.

Happy almost Father’s day to all of you dads out there… and to those of you who still have your dads and grandmas, show them some love please.

Bad Taxidermy Museum

This one is from a couple of years ago, but it’s such a good example of a compelling postcard that I saved it. Somehow reading this gives me the feeling of looking out over this great country at all that is available and possible, with golden light across rolling hills of grain and shit. I don’t know why a rave in a bad taxidermy museum gives me that feeling… maybe it’s the bonfire and paddleboard parts. Anyway, behold Jam and his wonderful postcard. Insert sound of exalted grail floating in the sky with rays of light here.

An Elaborate Scheme

I found this in a file or box a while back and took this photo to send to Kris, but I believe I got rid of it without photographing the other side. Who knew I’d end up with a postcard blog to catalogue such things.


  • Agapanthus is my favorite flower… someone acquired it and tried to trick me, but I was strong
  • Bag 4 and Bag 8 refer to our actual bag numbers on a rafting and camping trip that we took once upon a time
  • I’m categorizing this as “Sent” so that it shows up as one that I’ve written

I Think I Feel Something

Almost 11 years ago (whoa!), a group of my friends went out to California to ride their bicycles back across this great country of ours.  They faced mountains, snowstorms, 3.2 beer, and… each other.

Hugh (who according to Jon wimped out and hitchhiked instead of choosing frostbite) was my roommate at the time.  As I recall Hugh left me a message from the road recounting their heroic departure… somebody had a boombox strapped to their bike, and I’m A Survivor (Destiny’s Child) was playing.  I’ve always imagined Hugh riding out of SF at dawn, one fist pumping in the air, singing “I’m a survivor, I’m gonna make it!” at the top of his lungs.  This scene is probably stuck in my head because upon his return he acted it out a number of times.  True or false, it’s in my memory, and I like it there.

I love that Jon sent me this update from their trip, and that I held onto it.  I’ve always been fond of the way that a postcard is like a little snapshot into life at that time, some with more detail than others, but a vignette regardless.  This brings back memories of when I used to hang out with Jon all the time, when I lived with Hugh, and when I worked at MIT.  Solid postcard.

Wearing the Panté

1997. I don’t even remember who our favorite psycho was, but it sounds like somebody we didn’t want to see again. Been thinking a lot out these guys this week for other reasons, so I decided to pull one from the archives. I love that they sent us a postcard with one of Chuck’s adorable cats, and that I managed to hold onto it. People should draw on postcards more often! People other than me, of course… people who can draw.