The 50-cent postcard
and the craving for tangible beauty
On any given day, my brain takes it thousands of images. Most of them are digital, unevenly distributed between Instagram, Pinterest, digital magazines and books that I read for pleasure and for work.
And yet, the more I absorb pixels and the more my mind toggles between multiple screen, the more I crave tangible beauty. Tactile. Existing right here, next to me, within my reach.
And this is where the 50-cent postcard comes in. The best-spend 50 cents since I spent a whooping 50 cents at a church rummage sale on a vintage ceramic Melitta coffee cone 10+ years ago.
On a thrift store display table, in a pell-mell of cuttings and planters and all manner of gardening books and supplies, my eyes spotted this postcard.
50 cents?
Yes, please! But why did you put the price sticker on the front
Way before I reached checkout, I started imagining where I could display it. How I could frame it. How I would use it in a mood board. A mood board of a life I’m dreaming about, but also actively building piece by piece, decision after decision.
Until I studied it closer, I thought it was a reproduction of a painting. But it is in fact a photo of a still-life.
The 50-cent postcard is franked March 6th, 1969 from Hanna to a Mrs. Van Overmeel.
Nothing but “best greetings” written on the back.
What was their relationship? Was it a respectful student to teacher one? Were they neighbors? Acquaintances? Or where they such good friends that they didn’t need any other words to express that they were thinking of each other?
Were they lovers? Roommates? In-laws?
Was this the equivalent of me reacting with a heart emoji in the group chat with my friends because, while I might not have the time for a more elaborate response right now, I want them to feel acknowledged and know that I’m thinking of them?
And perhaps closer to my heart is this question:
Did Hanna and Mrs. Overmeel share a love of flowers and gardening and beautiful things?
They didn’t have screens and digital distractions back then, but surely they were torn between a myriad other obligations. I just hope that they cherished a few gentle minutes of reflection and enjoyment each day.