One reason I love postcards is the lack of privacy. Not only do I know anyone could be reading, I expect them to. Indeed, I have occasionally sent postcards for this express purpose, such as a very risqué one from Hawaii on which I simply wrote something like: “Dear postie, I hope this gives you a laugh!”
Several times over the years postcards I have sent have not arrived. I can specifically recall examples sent to Alma, AW, SFL and myself disappearing into nothingness. These were mailed from many places worldwide, over several years, and yet I still wonder exactly where they ended up. What was written on them? Are they still out there, or did they end up in a dead letter office?
Australian readers may recall a column on postal matters that used to run in the Sydney Morning Herald many years back. I used to love reading out the amazing stories of efficiency (such as letters delivered when the address was just a name) and especially those about the dead letter office, where undeliverable mail ended up.
It turns out the name is a bit of a misnomer, because the job of a dead letter office is not just to collect or destroy mail, but to actually try and work out who it is supposed to go to and get it there. They still exist and do this job to this day.
One possible example dates back a few years to when we went to England. As usual I had sent out a bunch of postcards (I average over one per day on vacation now) and I just assumed they all arrived. Imagine my surprise when, six months later during my Australia trip a postcard from England arrived at my parents house. Six months! Why did it take so long?!? Where had it been? Could it have possibly gone via a dead letter office? If it did, there was no clue, since being a postcard it hadn’t been opened and resealed using a nifty (and apparently very collectible) dead letter seal like this one:
I have even sent postcards with the half-hope they got lost; with messages on them not necessarily for the recipient. But I’ve never ever deliberately sent out a postcard to places unknown. Until now this is…
This article about a ‘missing post office’ in Japan really spoke to me. A destination for anonymous postcards only! If anyone on Earth should send a card to them, surely it should be me?
So I have. It’s a silly picture postcard from Queenstown, Tasmania (which of course I’ve never been to, but the question of why such cards appeal to me is a blog entry all of its own). The front of the card hardly matters though. It’s what’s on the back that’s interesting.
Unlike almost every other card I write it’s not a joke, or a sketch, or anything silly at all. It’s a short paragraph; a sad little sentence about the future. I’m not going to repeat it here, but it will soon (I hope) be on public display in this quirky little gallery. I wonder if anyone will read it, and from my words wonder a little about the writer?