Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Going Postal

Sleds like my parent's

If you've been reading this blog, you know I recently took a little look-see into the past. To the days when people literally reached out and touched someone. Instead of posting a selfie on facehole, they posted a card. In the mail. Weird, but true. I sorted through my cousin Jane's well aged, dusty shoe box full of postcards last month. My trip down Jane's memory lane took me to 1960's Vegas and titillating topless ice skaters. Ooh-la-la. I learned what kind of bed spreads the Holiday Inn favored back in the day. Burnt orange. And I was educated about a new species of rabbit. The  Jackalope. You know, rabbits with antlers.  

This investigative postal-ism prompted me to dig up my own hand written past. I sifted through my oldest box of cards. I'm a pack rat just like my cousin. I don't know why, but I saved everything. Wow! I received a lot of high school graduation cards. Geez, it's pretty easy to graduate from high school. I hope my friends and family didn't think it was Med school or something. I also discovered that my college boyfriend sent me more cards in just a few years of dating, than my husband has given me in fifteen years of marriage. Including the 4 years we dated before that. For shame! And then there's the mystery of the people that seem to be so important in you life. For awhile. They send you thoughtful cards and never forget your birthday and then mysteriously vanish. Seriously, there were cards from people that I can't remember from Adam. Or was it Eve.

But the sweetest cards were from my parents. I remember crying into an unfamiliar pillow when my parents started traveling out west to snowmobile in the mountains. I was probably only around 6 years old when they left me with our pastor and his family for two torturous weeks. I found out later that my Mom shed just as many tears as me in those early years. The featured card is from 1975. I was eight year's old and had graduated to staying with my friend Vikki and her family. I remember the Christianson's only ate healthy cereal. For God's sake Mom! How could you leave me with those savages? "Ah, excuse me, Mrs. Christianson. Um, where exactly do you keep your cookie crisp cereal? What???!!! You don't have any!!!!!" 
If only I knew a good swear word when I was eight. Like good old W.T.F. But I didn't.

My parents had a lot of adventures snowmobiling in Yellowstone. They enjoyed wilderness wiener roasts with grizzly bears. Sort of. They saw Buffalo and Elk in their natural habitat. (see above) They experienced high altitude sled troubles. (snowmobiles are called sleds by true devotees)  And, thank goodness, they sent lots of postcards. Postcards that always ended with Love, Mom and Dad. Priceless. Or, at least 10 cents worth. 


Marie C said...

How long were you & your parents apart from each other? It must have been so hard because you were very young! Loved the postcard and your comments about this journey you have been taking back into the ephemeral past! Topless ice skating...ahem! :-) The book I am reading now goes back & froth between the author's grandparents' time (early 20th c) to when he is researching them in the 1970s for a book. Quite a shocking change in EVERYTHING from that one period to the other. The topless ice skating made me think of that...his "secretary" is all into "free love" and such and in the chapter I read just berated him for fading out from the "sex scenes" when they happen in his grandparents' lives. It's a wonderful book I will eventually finish and review but it is slow going. Just SO MUCH going on in my life right now! :-)

Linda Hensley said...

You don't know how good you had it. My family not only ate healthy cereal, we only had the kind Mom made from oatmeal and buckwheat. AND, they never went away and left us alone. We had to go with them and I didn't have any cuss words yet either. Kids today just don't know how rough it was in the olden days!

DJan said...

I just loved this story and postcard. I still have a few cards from my mom and a letter or two that my dad wrote (not to me, but I ended up with them). I love to see my parents' handwriting, it brings them back in a way, doesn't it? :-)