Tweet, Tweet

Maybe I’m just a bit old fashioned or nostalgic or sentimental, hey - I draw the line at schmaltzy, but recently, I was perusing through pumpkin recipes I’ve collected over the years and found a postcard from dear friends.

I’m not sure of the date, it was a bit faded. I know it was from Oregon and had baby seals on the front. Boy, it brought back all kinds of memories. Memories of friends, traveling to fun and foreign far-off places, and most of all my joy of sending and receiving postcards.

I’m not much for writing poetry, but I’ve always thought of a well-written postcard as a sincere form of the poetic word. I think of great song lyrics in this way, too. “Poetry is to dancing as prose is to walking,” wrote French poet Paul Valery.

The thoughtfully written postcard can rival anything wrapped in an envelope. When I go to the mailbox and find a piece of 4X6, card stock with a photo on the front, it’s like receiving a message in a bottle. An artful account of a voyage written just for me.

I suppose a tweet on the social media site Twitter is the modern transformation of the postcard. A typed version limited to 140 characters. Tweets and postcards are both pieces of a puzzle and we imagine the rest. They are micro blogs constrained only by space.

Still, postcards - unlike twitter - are hand written specifically from the sender to the receiver - personal although not private like the tweet. Hopefully, there is a place in the world for both the old and the new; the slow and the fast.

Because whether writing postcards are behind the times or not, I for one hope they are never wiped from our landscape. There is something beautiful about handwriting, stamps, the cover art and something to hold in my hands.

Next time you’re having an adventure in-town or out, put down the Twitter, find a postcard and put your poetry in motion. Finding that post card was like talking to my friends - in person - being there and sharing the fun with Jeff, David and Beth.

When I hear the chirp, chirp of the tweet from twitter I don’t feel a connection. When I reach into the mailbox and pull out that postcard with the photograph chosen especially for me, the connection is beyond words.