I love postcards. I love sending them; I love receiving them. I send at least four postcards when I travel anywhere new and I always bring back some more. In today’s “snap and share”  climate, I guess it makes me a bit of an outsider. Well, a lot of an outsider, since I am rather parsimonious with the photos I share online. But here’s the scoop, folks : people LOVE getting postcards. As in, I know NOBODY who will be unhappy to open their letterbox and find a postcard in there.

Because receiving a postcard means that someone has taken the time during their time away to choose a postcard for you. That someone has taken the time to think about you long enough to write something, remember your address and hunt for a stamp (because yes, there are places where the post office is not just around the corner and the shop won’t sell you international stamps). And in places where there is no internet, because yes, there are still plenty of those, it’s a way to let at least one of those who might worry about you, that you’re doing fine.

The postcard is an old tradition; it started in the mid-nineteenth century. It’s the cheapest and the most personal souvenir you will ever buy. It can allow you to share that painting you saw in an exhibit and that you really liked. It can be funny or naughty. And even with digital cameras getting better and better, a postcard has the best pictures. You can use it as bookmark, pin it to your partition in work, put it on your fridge, show it off to your friends. It’ll make you smile when you see it. You can even collect the stamp from it. It’s something that was sent to you. It’s not something that was posted online, something that everyone has and that you have to print afterwards.

In short, the postcard is awesome and I struggle to understand how people don’t send more of them.  Though it is a two-way street, isn’t it? It’s always nice to receive postcards, but well, truth is, you’ve got to send some of your own. Tis only fair, don’t you think?