Abbey's Road: Uncovering memos from the past
After a home-cooked dinner of hearty beef stew and a few rousing games of Uno one evening, my mother-in-law brought a stack of old postcards to her dining room table and plopped them down in front of us. She explained they’d been written by distant relatives over a span of decades, and most were at least a century old.
There were dozens of them, yellowed but sturdy; the type of cardstock you’d have to cough up megabucks for anymore in the greeting card section at your friendly local grocer (and that’s without the music and flashing lights).
The cards featured a variety of designs, several of them photographs from locations where the senders were visiting but others with whimsical Victorian-inspired scenes and an occasional brief message.
In one, entitled “New Year Greetings,” a man bundled in a coat and cap steers his team of horses through a snow-covered countryside; the back of his sleigh is heaped with sacks containing $10,000 each (according to the labels). And what person wouldn’t want to ring in the new year with a visit like that? Timeless.
Another card features a farmer carrying an ear of corn over his shoulder that is easily three times his size. “Saw a man with a big ear — Plymouth, Ohio” it reads.
I can only assume this was the 1930s equivalent of texting someone a meme, and now I am beginning to see where my husband gets his sense of humor.
The handwritten messages on the cards were always brief — a few sentences at most, but sometimes only a few words.
My favorite, postmarked from Mansfield in 1910, read simply: “I must go and get my breakfast now it is 8 a.m. — Sherman.”
Bless you, Sherman, for taking the time to let someone know you didn’t actually have the time. The world could use more people like you.
It was enlightening to flip through the stack, one at a time, trying to decipher some of the words written in swoopy, ancient cursive. The girls gathered around and joined in the fun, marveling at the detailed pictures. These were, after all, pieces of history, passed down from family whose faces have long disappeared from memory but whose words, however brief, will live on as long as there are people left to appreciate them.
I left Grammy’s house that evening contemplating what we in the Very Digital Age of 2022 can stand to learn from a stack of dated correspondence, and what I came up with was this:
1. It’s the thought that counts. Most of these cards were not sentimental or thorough. “Went up to the park to visit Cousin Ruby.” “Tell Mother not to clean the house until her rib heals.” “Hope to come see you when I can.” The point was that the sender wanted the recipient to know he or she was thought of and cared for. In an era where telephones were just beginning to gain traction, these precious pieces of paper were the only way for families to stay in touch. Even a few sentences held meaning.
2. Jokes can change but humor is timeless. It’s easy to equate “old-fashioned” with “stodgy” and “up-tight,” but these hundred-year-old postcards have proven that to be false. There were several “laugh out loud”-worthy illustrations in this collection, and I left with a renewed appreciation for the timelessness of a well-placed joke or an artfully composed cartoon.
3. Communication is important. Our text messages won’t have the staying power of the printed word, but they still hold meaning. Even brief check-ins — “How was your day?” “Went to our favorite vacation spot this weekend and thought of you!” — can brighten the day of a recipient. Our communication looks different than it did a century ago, but it is still just as vital. Consider this your little reminder to utilize it.
4. Our words will outlive us. Sobering but true. Someday after we’re gone, the words we leave behind — in whatever form — will still be accessible to our loved ones and their children and their children. Makes you want to think wisely about the legacy you’re leaving behind, right? On social media, in correspondence, in life: Choose your words wisely.
What a refreshing evening it was, taking a peek into bygone days. We all shared several laughs and wrapped up the day feeling grateful for the legacy of connection, the gift of shared pasts and the blessing of family.
Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.
This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Century-old post cards tell old family stories
