With just nine words, this 1964 parody postcard captures an era of bureaucratic absurdity. The genius lies in its perfect circularity: you can’t disregard a notice you never received. A logical paradox delivered in the stern capital letters of official communication.
This masterpiece of meta-humor was the centerpiece of “Nutty Notices,” a collection of satirical postcards published by Philadelphia’s GEM Publishing in 1964. The series went on to skewer everything from traffic enforcement to mattress tags, each card delivering bureaucratic absurdity like a stage clown wielding a rubber chicken.
Perfect for the spooky season, the next notice solemnly announces the recipient has won in an “Imminent Danger Sweepstakes” sponsored by a “Black Cat Society,” reassuring that previous recipients survived their subsequent accidents.
The collection unfolds like a greatest hits of paperwork problems. Another, from the stern-sounding “Bureau of Upholstery Tag Security,” threatens dawn raids over a removed mattress tag. A mock inheritance notice dangles a too-good-to-be-true fortune from a conveniently deceased fifth cousin, key details lost to a faulty typewriter.
These parodies emerged during a period of notable government expansion. The Great Society legislation of the Kennedy and Johnson administrations had launched numerous new agencies and programs, from the Peace Corps to Medicare. While many of these programs were popular, and have endured, they also generated unprecedented levels of paperwork and official communications in Americans’ daily lives.
The notices cleverly played on specific anxieties of the era: fear of government surveillance, concerns about traffic enforcement in the new Interstate era, and awareness of inheritance scams in an increasingly connected society.
The traffic violation notice, featuring President Lyndon B. Johnson, plays on LBJ’s notorious driving habits. The President was known for terrifying guests at his Texas ranch by driving his Amphicar (a German-made civilian amphibious vehicle) at high speeds toward the ranch’s lake, screaming about brake failure as his car plunged into the water. The vehicle was designed to float, but his unsuspecting passengers didn’t know that. This well-known presidential prank made the postcard’s joke particularly resonant with 1960s readers.
A good pun is still a kind of social capital, as all deadpanning dads know. The card below suggests an incredible win. The 1964 Plymouth Barracuda was a coveted car model, though overshadowed that year by the introduction of the Ford Mustang. The Barracuda featured a sloped fastback roofline and fold-down rear seats that created a large cargo area, making it both sporty and practical. The standard engine was a Slant-6, but buyers could opt for a more powerful V8 engine. Prices started at around $2,500 (approximately $22,000 in today’s dollars). By the end of the card, though, it’s all a bit fishy.
What makes these 1964 parodies fundamentally different from today’s deceptive communications is their clear satirical intent. The notices were obviously humorous, from their outlandish premises to their absurd escalations. They never attempted to deceive. The parodies didn’t seek to extract money, personal information, or action from recipients. The joke was the endpoint, and publishers and recipients understood these as entertainment, part of a broader tradition of bureaucratic satire.
Today’s deceptive communications often weaponize the same official-looking formats and bureaucratic language that these postcards once parodied. But modern scams aim to deceive rather than amuse, exploiting digital tools to create ever more convincing forgeries. Contemporary examples like phishing emails represent a darker evolution of institutional mimicry. While the 1964 notices laughed at authority’s pomposities, today’s deceptive communications abuse institutional authority for malicious purposes.
Long before memes spread political humor online, postcards served as a democratic medium for both serious political discourse and satirical commentary. During the Golden Age of postcards before World War I, suffragettes used them to promote women’s voting rights. The famous “Vinegar Valentines” of the Victorian era delivered stinging social critique through the mail. During World War II, patriotic postcards boosted morale while propaganda postcards spread messages both noble and nefarious.
These vintage parodies remind us that healthy skepticism toward official communications isn’t new—but the stakes have changed dramatically. In 1964, Americans could laugh at mock notices because real ones, while annoying, generally came through trusted channels with clear verification methods. Today’s digital landscape requires a more sophisticated type of visual and contextual literacy. We must balance healthy skepticism with the ability to recognize legitimate communications, while remaining alert to increasingly sophisticated forms of deception.
The “Nutty Notices” stand as charming artifacts of a time when bureaucratic busy-ness seemed worthy of laughter rather than alarm—when the worst thing a notice might do was create a paradox, not steal your identity. In an era of digital manipulation, we can look back nostalgically at a time when the most threatening official communication you might receive was a tongue-in-cheek warning about your mattress tags.
Weathered wooden structures still stand in the middle of Iowa, a testament to both engineering ingenuity and the power of storytelling. The covered bridges of Madison County have become more than mere crossings over babbling creeks; they are portals to the past, muses for artists, and anchors for a community’s identity. As the crisp autumn air settles over the rolling hills in October, thousands of visitors gather to celebrate these iconic structures at the annual Covered Bridge Festival, a tradition that has endured for over half a century.
Our journey begins with a stack of old locally-printed postcards, each capturing a nearby rural scene frozen in faded grayscale tones. Photographed by Clee Crawford in the early 1950s, these images were made into postcards sometime after 1983 by Larry’s Photography and Joe Graham Printing in Winterset, Iowa. Vintage collectibles themselves, they offer a glimpse of a bygone era when the now-famous bridges were simply part of the rural fabric of Madison County.
The Roseman Bridge, built in 1883 by H.P. Jones, spans the Middle River nine miles southwest of Winterset. In the postcard, it rises from a sea of cornstalks, its wooden siding weathered by countless Iowa summers and winters. Known locally as “The Haunted Bridge,” it whispers of ghost stories told around farmhouse tables and hushed conversations between young lovers seeking shelter from prying eyes. Little did the bridge know that it would one day become a star, playing a pivotal role in a story that would captivate millions.
Moving northeast, we encounter the Cutler-Donahoe Bridge. Constructed in 1871, this structure originally crossed the North River. But like many of its counterparts, it found a new home as the winds of change swept through the county. In 1970, the same year the first Covered Bridge Festival was held, Cutler-Donahoe was carefully uprooted and transplanted to Winterset City Park. The postcard captures it in its original location, a sentinel standing guard over the river below, unaware of its future as a centerpiece of civic pride.
Our third postcard brings us to the Cedar Bridge, another creation of the prolific bridge-builder H.P. Jones. Erected in 1883 over Cedar Creek north of Winterset, it too would embark on a journey, moving to a new location in 1920. The image shows the bridge nestled in a picturesque rural setting, a dirt road winding its way to the entrance. What the postcard doesn’t reveal is the tumultuous future awaiting this particular bridge – a tale of destruction, rebirth, and the tenacity of a community unwilling to let go of its heritage.
The final postcard in our collection tells a bittersweet tale. The McBride Bridge, built in 1871, appears proud and sturdy in the photograph. Yet the caption reveals its fate: destroyed by fire on September 3, 1983. This loss, occurring on the first day of the 1983 Madison County Covered Bridge Festival, served as a stark reminder of the fragility of these historical treasures and the importance of preservation efforts.
The destruction of the McBride Bridge is, unfortunately, not an isolated incident. Across the United States, covered bridges have long been targets of arson and accidental fires. According to data compiled by Covered Spans of Yesteryear, over 670 covered bridges have been lost to fire nationwide since the early 19th century. In Iowa alone, at least seven covered bridges have succumbed to flames, with arson being a common cause.
The Cedar Bridge, captured so peacefully in our postcard, has had a particularly tumultuous recent history. In 2002, it fell victim to arson, a loss that shook the community to its core. Demonstrating remarkable resilience, the bridge was rebuilt, only to suffer the same fate in 2017. The determination of Madison County residents prevailed once again, and a newly reconstructed Cedar Bridge opened in 2019 – a testament to the enduring significance of these structures in the local psyche.
As we shuffle these postcards, admiring the craftsmanship of both the bridges and the photographers who captured them, we’re drawn into a narrative that extends far beyond the borders of Madison County. These structures, once utilitarian crossings designed to protect travelers and livestock from the elements, have become characters in a much larger story – one that intertwines literature, film, tourism, and the very identity of a region.
The transformation began in 1992 with the publication of Robert James Waller’s novel, The Bridges of Madison County. Waller, an Iowa native, wove a tale of passion and missed chances against the backdrop of Madison County’s rural landscape. The Roseman Bridge, our “Haunted Bridge,” took center stage as the site where the story’s star-crossed lovers, Francesca Johnson and Robert Kincaid, first meet.
Suddenly, these bridges were no longer just local landmarks; they became symbols of romance, of roads not taken, of the bittersweet choices that shape our lives. The novel struck a chord with readers across the globe, selling millions of copies and landing on bestseller lists for over three years. But the story’s impact was only beginning.
In 1995, Hollywood came calling. Clint Eastwood directed and starred alongside Meryl Streep in the film adaptation of Waller’s novel. Once again, the bridges of Madison County found themselves in the spotlight, this time on the silver screen. The Roseman Bridge, in particular, became a character in its own right, its weathered boards and rustic charm providing the perfect setting for the unfolding drama.
The film’s success catapulted Madison County into the national consciousness. Tourists began flocking to Winterset and the surrounding areas, eager to walk in the footsteps of Francesca and Robert, to stand on the bridges where their fictional love blossomed, and to capture a piece of that romance for themselves.
This intersection of literature, cinema, and place created a perfect opportunity for cultural tourism. The bridges, which had stood for over a century as quiet witnesses to the ebb and flow of rural life, now found themselves at the center of a phenomenon that would reshape the economy and identity of Madison County.
The Covered Bridge Festival, which had begun in 1970 as a celebration of local history and craftsmanship, took on new significance. It became not just a community gathering, but a pilgrimage site for fans of the book and film, as well as history buffs, architecture enthusiasts, and romantics from all walks of life. Since then, the town itself has changed and adapted to the ongoing recognition.
As we fast forward, the allure of the bridges shows no signs of waning. The 2024 Covered Bridge Festival, held October 12-13 this year, continues to draw thousands of visitors to Madison County. For $3 admission (or two tickets for $5, with children under 11 entering free), attendees can immerse themselves in a weekend that bridges past and present.
The festival grounds, centered around the Winterset town square, buzz with activity. Vendors line the streets, offering handcrafted goods and local culinary delights. Sounds of live music fill the air, kids laughing in the Kids’ Zone, and the excited chatter of visitors from near and far.
For many, the highlight of the festival is the guided tour of the covered bridges, conducted by the Winterset Rotary Club. As buses wind their way through the countryside, visitors are treated to not just the sight of these historic structures, but also to tales of their construction, their role in local lore, and their journey from practical crossings to cultural icons.
The festival isn’t just about looking back, however. It’s a living, breathing celebration that continues to evolve. The 2024 event features a parade, a car show that turns the area around the courthouse into a chrome-and-steel wonderland, and a variety of demonstrations showcasing the craftsmanship and ingenuity that built these bridges in the first place.
At the Madison County Historical Complex, visitors can delve deeper into the area’s rich past. Here, the bridges are placed in context, their stories interwoven with those of the farmers, merchants, and families who have called this corner of Iowa home for generations.
As the festival has grown, so too has the need to balance tourism with preservation. The story of the Cedar Bridge serves as a poignant reminder of the challenges faced in preserving these landmarks. As we admire their beauty and revel in their romantic associations, we must also reckon with their vulnerability. Each bridge that remains standing is a victory – over time, over the elements, and sometimes over human destructiveness.
As the sun sets on this year’s festival, casting long shadows through the covered bridges, visitors and locals alike are reminded of the unique alchemy that has occurred here. What began as a practical solution to a transportation need has become a cultural touchstone, an economic driver, and a source of identity for an entire region.
The bridges of Madison County are physical manifestations of the power of storytelling, the appeal of nostalgia, and the human desire to connect – not just from one riverbank to another, but across time, across mediums, and across cultures. They are examples of 19th-century engineering that teach us more every future decade they exist.
These bridges offer something increasingly rare: a moment of pause, a chance to step out of the rush of modern life and into a space where time moves a little slower. Whether you’re a fan of Waller’s novel, a history enthusiast, or simply someone in search of a quiet moment of reflection, the covered bridges of Madison County have something to offer.
As we look to the future, the challenge for Madison County will be to continue balancing preservation with progress, nostalgia with innovation. The Covered Bridge Festival, with its blend of historical celebration and contemporary community spirit, serves as a model for how this might be achieved.
For now, as October winds whisper through the wooden beams of the Roseman, Cutler-Donahoe, Cedar, and the other three surviving bridges, they carry with them the echoes of all who have passed through before – from 19th-century farmers to 20th-century film stars to the tourists and locals of today. Each footstep, each photograph, each stolen moment adds another layer to the rich tapestry of stories that these bridges hold.
Our postcards, now decades old themselves, serve as a reminder of the power of image and imagination to transform the ordinary into the extraordinary. From simple river crossings to symbols of undying love, from local landmarks to international attractions, the covered bridges of Madison County have undergone a journey as winding and wonderful as the roads that lead to them. In the hearts and minds of all who have encountered them – whether through postcards, novels, films, or in person – these bridges have built connections far stronger and more enduring than wood and nails could ever achieve.
As we tuck our postcards away and the festival-goers return home, we’re left with an appreciation for these humble structures that have become so much more. The covered bridges of Madison County remind us that with a little imagination, a touch of serendipity, and year-after-year of care, even the most unassuming places can become the stuff of legend.
In the end, perhaps that’s the true magic of Madison County’s covered bridges – their ability to transport us not just from one side of a river to another, but from our everyday lives into a world where love, history, and community intertwine.
Alongside any earnest effort to declutter, minimize, or embrace a modest lifestyle, there are delightful rebellions brewing in the corners of our homes, on our bookshelves, and in our hearts. Collecting – postcards, stamps, or any manner of curious objects – is among a great many pastimes that bring us joy.
Let’s start with a set of floral letter postcards that captured my heart and imagination recently. For me, they’re time capsules from the Edwardian era, each one a miniature masterpiece of design and sentiment.
Delicate flowers intertwine with bold capital letters, spelling out affectionate greetings to mothers and fathers, aunts and cousins, and more. Blue irises dance around pink and gold lettering, while red roses form the word ‘cousin’ against a dramatic dark background. It’s Victorian drama meets Art Nouveau flair, all condensed into a 3.5 x 5.5 inch rectangle. The colors are vibrant, defying the century they have traveled to meet our modern eyes.
But why do these particular postcards make my collector’s heart skip a beat? It’s not just their undeniable aesthetic appeal, though that’s certainly part of it. They’re windows into history, offering glimpses of a time when sending a beautifully designed card was a primary way of keeping in touch with loved ones. Each handwritten message on the back (like the one postmarked July 10, 1909) is a tiny slice of someone’s life, preserved for over a century.
Thrill of the Hunt and the Joy of Design
There’s also the thrill of the hunt. Finding a matching set among thousands of vintage postcards is like piecing together a particularly beautiful puzzle. Each new discovery brings an aha and a sense of completion. It’s a patience game, sure, but the payoff is worth it.
These postcards, with their intricate details and bold typography, have stood the test of time. They’re just as appealing now as they were when they were first printed. Collecting them isn’t just owning pretty objects – it’s a chance to examine, hold, preserve and share a piece of design history, a snapshot of the aesthetic sensibilities of a bygone era.
Collecting is deeply personal. While I pour over century-old postcards, my neighbor friend is curating an ever-expanding collection of adorable bird figurines. He’s particular about it too – they have to be a specific kind, from a specific place, at a specific price point. He watches the bird market, adds to his collection strategically. To a non-birder, it might seem quirky. But watch him arrange his birds, carefully considering where each one fits, and you’ll understand something profound about him: he’s a person who experiences quiet joys.
First and foremost, collecting is about falling in love with something uniquely suited to you. It’s about creating space in your life – physical and emotional – for the things that bring you joy. It’s about curating, admiring, and sharing a part of yourself through the objects you choose to surround yourself with. My friend curates his bird collection, brings them out by the seasons, delightful arrangements that invite family and friends to enjoy, too.
All the People, All the Collections
This philosophy extends far beyond postcards and bird figurines. Think about the philatelists out there, losing themselves in the minute details of postage stamps. Each tiny square is a work of art, a nugget of history, a passport to another time and place.
Or consider the sports enthusiasts, their shelves lined with signed jerseys and game-used equipment. For them, these aren’t just objects – they’re tangible connections to moments of athletic glory, to the heroes they admire.
History buffs might seek out Civil War relics or Space Age memorabilia, each artifact a physical link to events that shaped our world. And in our digital age, even contemporary collectibles are thriving. From limited edition vinyl figures to exclusive sneaker releases, people are finding new ways to express their passions through the objects they collect.
What unites all these diverse collecting interests? The deep connection to a particular passion or area of interest that only you can know. Whether it’s a century-old postcard or a just-released collectible figurine, these objects become repositories of personal meaning and cultural significance for their collectors.
Hobbies and Pastimes
Collecting, in its various forms, is just one of many popular ways Americans choose to spend their leisure time. Zoom out for a moment and consider the broader landscape of hobbies and pastimes in the United States.
Reading continues to be a widely enjoyed pastime, with many people diving into both physical books and digital formats. It’s an accessible hobby that caters to diverse interests and can be done almost anywhere.
Gardening has seen a surge in popularity, especially in recent years, as people seek to connect with nature and perhaps grow a bit of their own food. Cooking and baking remain perennially popular, with the rise of cooking shows and online recipes making it easier than ever for people to explore new cuisines and techniques at home.
Exercise and fitness activities, including running, cycling, and yoga, are on the rise as people focus more on health and wellness. Crafting hobbies like knitting, crocheting, and DIY projects have seen renewed interest, offering a creative outlet and the satisfaction of making something by hand.
Photography has become more widespread with the improvement of smartphone cameras, allowing more people to capture and share moments from their daily lives. Not only do I collect floral postcards, I take pictures of beautiful flowers every chance I get!
Hiking and outdoor activities are popular, and of course, sports – both playing and watching – continue to be a major part of American culture and a popular pastime for many.
Passion Has Purpose
What drives us to spend our precious free time on these pursuits? The benefits are numerous and far-reaching.
On a personal level, hobbies provide stress relief and relaxation. They offer an escape from daily pressures and can be a form of meditation, helping to reduce stress and anxiety. Many hobbies involve learning new skills or improving existing ones, which can boost self-confidence and cognitive function. They provide a creativity outlet, stimulating imagination and innovative thinking.
There’s also the sense of achievement that comes from completing projects or reaching milestones in a hobby. This can provide a significant boost to self-esteem and overall life satisfaction. Regular engagement in enjoyable activities can help combat depression and improve overall mood. Having a hobby encourages better time management as we carve out time for our interests. And perhaps most importantly, hobbies can become an integral part of our identity, providing a sense of purpose and self-definition outside of work or family roles.
Many hobbies involve communities of like-minded individuals, providing opportunities for social connection and friendship. Engaging with others who share your interests can help develop language, communication and interpersonal skills. Some hobbies, especially those involving arts, crafts, or cuisines from different cultures, can broaden cultural awareness and appreciation.
These pursuits can sometimes lead to unexpected networking opportunities, potentially beneficial for personal or professional growth. Shared hobbies can strengthen family relationships by providing common interests and shared experiences. Many hobbies appeal to people of all ages, facilitating connections across generations. And hobby communities often provide emotional support, advice, and encouragement, fostering a sense of belonging.
Many hobbies, particularly those involving physical activity, contribute to better overall health and fitness. Engaging in hobbies, especially those that challenge the mind, can help maintain cognitive function as we age. Skills learned through hobbies can sometimes translate into valuable job skills or even new career opportunities. Some hobbies can evolve into side businesses or income streams. And perhaps most importantly, hobbies provide a counterbalance to work and other responsibilities, contributing to a more well-rounded life.
So, whether you’re arranging a set of vintage postcards, nurturing a garden, mastering a new recipe, or climbing a mountain, know that you’re doing more than just passing time. You’re engaging in a fundamental human activity, one that brings joy, fosters growth, builds connections, and adds richness to life.
Finding Quiet Joys
In the end, our collections and hobbies are extensions of ourselves. They reflect our interests, our aesthetics, our values, and our histories. They give us a way to tangibly interact with our passions, to create order and meaning in a chaotic world, and to surround ourselves with objects and experiences that bring us joy and inspiration.
So the next time someone raises an eyebrow at your carefully curated collection of Star Wars figurines, or questions why you spend hours perfecting your sourdough technique, remember this: in pursuing your passions, you’re not just collecting things or passing time. You’re crafting your narrative, preserving memories, expressing your unique identity, and experiencing the quiet (or not so quiet) joys that make life rich and meaningful.
Among all our favorite postcard styles, large letter postcards stand out as evocative artifacts of memory, place, and time. What drives us to collect these small works of design, and what do they reveal about the places we’ve been—or dream of going?
In an age of digital communication and instant photo sharing, there’s something uniquely captivating about large letter postcards. These brightly colored, design-driven place markers have been carrying snippets of the world from person to person – and into collections – for over a century.
Postcard collecting, or deltiology, has been a popular hobby since the late 19th century. What makes postcards so appealing to collectors? For one, they’re relatively affordable and easy to store, making them accessible to collectors of all ages and means. But more than that, postcards offer a unique blend of visual appeal, historical significance, and personal connection.
To Collect is Human
Humans have been collectors for as long as we know. From prehistoric shells and stones to modern stamps and coins, the act of gathering and preserving token objects is a constant across cultures and eras. But why do we collect?
For collectors of large letter postcards one might choose to focus on cards from a particular state or region, tracing how the depiction of that place changed over time. It’s an exploration of how places have marketed themselves to tourists, of changing aesthetic tastes, and of the evolution of printing technology. Each card is a time capsule, preserving a particular vision of a place at a specific moment in history.
Alternatively, a collector might concentrate on the output of a specific publisher, such as Curt Teich & Co. or Tichnor Brothers, each of which had its own distinctive style. Serious collectors have checklists and databases, and keenly search for highly-prized cards that are known but still not found.
One part of collecting is about finding a comforting order in a sometimes chaotic world. By curating a set of objects, we apply our own structures and meanings onto a small corner of the universe. It’s a way of making sense of the world around us, and also of understanding, exploring, and appreciating our experiences.
Moreover, collections often serve as tangible links to our memories and experiences. Each item in a collection can evoke a specific moment in time, a particular place, or a cherished memory. In this way, our collections become autobiographies of sorts, telling the story of our lives through carefully curated objects.
Collecting also taps into our innate desire for completion. There’s a profound satisfaction in filling gaps in a collection, in finding that elusive item that will make our set whole. This pursuit in itself can become a lifelong passion, providing a sense of purpose and achievement.
Vicarious Views
Large letter postcards are miniature ambassadors from distant lands, carrying with them not just images but also the tangible evidence of their journey—postmarks, stamps, and handwritten messages.
The hunt for these postcards take collectors to antique shops, flea markets, and specialized postcard shows. Online marketplaces have made it easier to find specific cards, but for many collectors, the thrill of the hunt remains an important part of the hobby.
Each postcard is a snapshot of a particular place at a specific moment, and a unique chance to travel in time. From architecture and fashion to social customs and technological advancements, postcards provide valuable insights into the evolution of society.
The messages scrawled on their backs offer intimate glimpses into personal histories. A hurried “Wish you were here!” or a detailed account of a traveler’s adventures can be just as fascinating as the picture on the front.
Personal Place Holders
At the heart of collecting large letter postcards is our connections to place. Whether we’re collecting postcards from places we’ve visited or from far-flung locales we hope to see someday, each card in our collection represents a connection to a specific geographical location.
This connection to place is a fundamental aspect of human psychology. We are, by nature, territorial creatures, and we form strong emotional bonds with the places that are significant to us. These bonds can be with our hometowns, favorite vacation spots, or even places we’ve only ever dreamed of visiting.
Postcards allow us to carry a piece of these places with us. They serve as physical reminders of our travels, tangible links to the memories we’ve made in different corners of the world. For places we haven’t yet visited, postcards can fuel our wanderlust, providing glimpses of distant lands and cultures.
But our relationship with place isn’t always straightforward. In our increasingly globalized world, many of us find ourselves with multiple place affinities. We might have roots in one city, work in another, and care for family in a third. Postcards offer a way to express and explore these multiple connections to place. A collection might include cards from one’s birthplace, current home, ancestral homeland, and favorite travel destinations, reflecting the complex geography of one’s life and identity.
Design Dazzle
Large letter postcards hold a special place in the hearts of many collectors. These distinctive cards, which feature the name of a place spelled out in oversized letters filled with local scenes, represent a perfect marriage of place celebration and graphic design.
The heyday of large letter postcards was the mid-20th century, particularly in the United States. This was the era of automobile tourism, when families would pile into their cars for cross-country road trips. Large letter postcards became popular souvenirs, offering a bold, eye-catching way to say “I was here!”
What makes large letter postcards so appealing is their clever integration of text and image. The large letters dominate the card, immediately identifying the location. But within these letters, we find a series of miniature scenes—local landmarks, natural wonders, or typical activities associated with the place. It’s like a visual summary of a destination, condensed into a single, striking image.
From a design perspective, large letter postcards are a triumph of commercial art. They required considerable skill to create, with artists needing to balance the demands of legibility (the place name had to be easily readable) with the desire to include as many local scenes as possible. The result was often a masterpiece of composition and color, with every inch of the card put to effective use.
The style of these postcards evolved over time. Early examples from the 1930s often featured more space between the letters, with scenes depicted in a realistic style. By the 1950s, the letters had typically grown to fill the entire card, with more stylized, graphic representations of local scenes. This evolution reflects broader trends in graphic design and commercial art of the period.
Postcards in the Digital Age
In our era of smartphones and social media, one might expect the appeal of postcards to have diminished. Yet postcards, including modern versions of large letter designs, continue to be produced and collected. Why do these physical artifacts still resonate in a digital world?
Part of the answer lies in their tangibility. In a world where so much of our communication is ephemeral—tweets and status updates that scroll away into oblivion—there’s something deeply satisfying about holding a physical object that has traveled across distance to reach us.
Moreover, the very characteristics that might make postcards seem outdated—their slowness, their limitations—can be seen as virtues. In a world of information overload, the postcard’s constrained format can be refreshing.
For collectors, physical postcards offer a connection to history that digital images can’t quite match. The ability to hold a card that was printed decades ago, to see the handwriting of someone long gone, provides a visceral link to the past that resonates deeply with many people.
Passionate Postal Pursuits
Whether we’re talking about vintage large letter postcards or their modern equivalents, these small rectangular pieces of card stock are far more than just souvenirs. They are repositories of memory, snapshots of place, and artifacts of design history.
For collectors, each postcard is a thread in a complex tapestry of place, time, and personal experience. A large letter postcard from Miami might evoke memories of a childhood vacation, appreciation for mid-century graphic design, and curiosity about how the city has changed since the card was printed.
In a world where our connections to place are increasingly complex and multi-layered, postcard collections allow us to map our personal geographies. They give tangible form to our memories, our travels, and our dreams of future journeys.
Moreover, in their celebration of specific places, postcards—and large letter postcards in particular—remind us of the rich diversity of the world. In an era of globalization, where many fear a homogenization of culture, these cards stand as colorful testimony to the unique character of different locations.
So the next time you come across a rack of postcards in a gift shop, or spot a vintage large letter card in an antique store, take a moment to appreciate these small works of design. They are more than just pretty pictures or quaint relics. In their own small way, they help us make sense of our place in the world—and isn’t that, after all, what collecting is all about?
The Posted Past 