It may seem too obvious to point out, but postcards move around over time. Cherished memories first organized in a new, handsome album sit in the front room for a decade or more before migrating to a study drawer, a garage, or a dusty attic.
If the album is later unearthed or given away, a collector might save it as an artifact of a bygone time. Or, they could pull it apart (mercilessly) to be sorted again into categories by geography or historical era.
After one collector is gone, the sifting and sorting can be nonsensical and misleading. Storylines get separated, and suddenly history relies on little more than a few questionable clues.
Landscapes get lost first, along with the creatures that inhabit them. The wolf, the moose, the fawn, and the prairie dogs in the snow were known only briefly to the soul who got the shot. To us, they are familiar ghosts.
And, what about the trees, the lakes, the frozen road, and the sandstone tunnel? I know they were likely loved in their day. Still there? Maybe. The tunnel could elicit some belabored guesswork. But, why?
I’ll be walking in the trees quite a bit in the next three weeks, taking pictures that I will share liberally on social media and won’t label properly. I doubt it would bother you. After a century or so, we can live with anonymous scenery and abstract wildlife. A picture can lose its place.
But, there is a certain creative tension ahead when it comes to people and property. The desire for a real story gets stronger, to find the ‘where’ there. Who are they, and what can they say about us now? Despite the lack of evidence, we can’t help searching. Stay tuned.
The Posted Past 