Nicholas Higgins 18/05/2020

In Postcards Veritas

‘There is nothing more in this earth to be prized than true friendship’, Thomas Aquinas

Why bother with a postcard when you can post an instagram story, tweet or facebook update? They’re slow, expensive, and with all those air miles, probably aren’t eco-friendly either. It seems the public agree; a poll commissioned by 02 Travel found that 45% of British holidaymakers have never sent a postcard, while more than half of travellers under 24 years of age would not even consider sending one. Whilst some age old traditions are rightly discarded, this strikes me as a pity.

My father recently bought a postcard written by Gone With the Wind superstar actress, Vivien Leigh. In it, she thanks a ‘Mr Lewis’ for having remembered her Birthday, further adding that she has been enjoying her trip through France. To the cynic, these are humdrum details that Leigh is relaying for the sake of communication, there were little other means to do so in 1960. This seems like a cold analysis . To me, it’s so much more than some scribbled lines by a famous actress. It’s the physical embodiment of a well cherished relationship with Mr Lewis. This is what postcards are about.

Leigh would have gone through a similar experience of sending a postcard as I recently have. This is a multi-pronged attack. First the pain of finding and buying one at a tacky souvenir store. Then the struggle of writing out a message with a pen you’ve had to borrow (who carries a pen?), and which is probably filled with spelling mistakes (no autocorrect). Only after surmounting the labyrinthine complications of a foreign post office, can you finally throw the bugger in the post box. When you get home a week later, you’re dismayed to find out it still hasn’t even arrived. 

Postcards gobble up our most precious commodity, time. They also require a good deal of mental strain. First and most importantly, you’d have to of thought of said person, even when you’re sitting on the beach with a crisp glass of Sauvignon. Then you’d have pondered the postcard’s design, does it suit their personality, humour or referance a shared memory? You’d also have discovered how difficult it is to say something worthwhile when you don’t have unlimited digital space, but only three or four sentences.

Yet as with most things that involve a bit of struggle, I was rewarded when that postcard did land on the recipient’s doormat. For them, I’d created something loaded with personal meaning. The words themselves meant little, nor was it some kind of Catholic penance for ‘buying’ a friendship. What it said, rather, was that I went through all the faff of sending one in the first place. It was a visible display of my appreciation for a relationship.

This is a thoroughly wholesome act for both sender and receiver. Expressing such simple gratitude is a wonderfully healthy thing to do. In my own experience at least, it’s one that’s always brought forth a whole host of positive emotions. Jesus’s words, ‘it is better to give than to receive’ (Acts 20:35), ring comfortably true. Sure it’s only meant for one person, but how many of your social media followers would come to help you if you were in trouble anyway? I could count mine on one hand.

Even if the content of a text or email is thoughtful, doesn’t it seem to lack that certain je ne sais quois which Leigh’s postcard so captures? Quoting romantic poetry seems odd over text, but written in hand on a postcard it’s somehow more fitting. What is more, digital messages are instant, but they quickly retreat into chat histories or email inboxes, lost to the cyber ether. The postcard takes weeks to arrive at your door, but they are treasured, revisited and enjoyed. Those I’ve received are proudly pinned on my fridge. Vivian Leigh’s 60 year old post card sits in my house today. Truly, good things do come to those who wait.

The postcard is also wonderfully tangible. They bear all the stamps, stains, marks and perforations of being exchanged through many postman’s hands. That little card has had a life of its own, having travelled many miles in planes, trains and automobiles to magically end up in your hands. You can touch it, feel it and smell it. The email and text, by comparison, are only visible because of pixels on a computer screen. They’re elusive and abstract.

There is also something uncomfortably uniform about computer processed words. The ubiquitous ‘Times New Roman’ font is typed the world over. It reminds me of those stiff, professional emails, filled with all their hollow pleasantries. Handwriting on the other hand, is individual and totally unique. Words written with ink on a page were created by someone many miles away, their hand made those very words. 

I’m not, however, some cave dwelling luddite. Technology can be great, we go on holiday and it’s easier than ever to remain in touch. Assuming we haven’t been blocked or muted, friends at home can enjoy minute by minute updates of our whereabouts. 

This is fun, but somehow cheap. We’ve all seen it before. The shot from the wing of a plane, the feet dangling over a nondescript pool, vegan superfood bowls in Bali, or the all pervasive ‘hot-dog’ legs looking onto a sun drenched sea. Predictable, unoriginal and banal. In the age of the doctored image, it’s probably not even real, ‘hide the best, show the rest’, does it not go? Go to any tourist attraction and witness how every man, woman and dog snaps at it through their phone. They haven’t really come to these places in an of themselves, they’ve come to show their virtual friends that they’ve been there. 

For these unthinking dullards, postcards certainly are obsolete. They don’t satisfy their insecure pleas for approval in the way stories, tweets and updates do. However, for those who hold dear concrete, authentic, human connection, the simple postcard is indispensable. They are only beheld by one persons eyes, and have 0 intention of bragging. They’re purpose is not to show off how much you travel, but to tangibly express gratitude to a friend, partner, husband or wife. They have all of the meaning and none of the toxicity. 

In postcards veritas!