“Let’s have a contest to see who can put the most stickers on a postcard!” I texted out of the blue last Saturday.
“Sure”, replied Bernard almost instantly. He was never a man to run from a challenge.
Some rules were set: the postcards had to be standard sized, a 2 x 6 cm left clear for the address and the stickers had to be unique and not overlap. We would mail simultaneously on Monday, so there would be no chance we could see the others entry first.
The same afternoon I selected the postcard I would use. This itself was an exercise; I have an expansive collection of unused cards and it had to be ‘just right’. I decided on the above since the jovial front would provide effective contrast to the nightmare on the back.
And then I crafted it. It took patience and tweezers and maniacal attention to detail. During those few hours my soul soared with pride and sunk to the lowest depths of shame. I was creating my magnum opus, but driving myself to the very edge of madness in the process.
At the same time over 2500 miles away Bernard was hard at work as well. We exchanged light jabs via text – this was a contest after all. But deep down we knew the battle would be hard fought.
And then, on Monday, we bequeathed the cards to the mercy of the post…
Today, three short days later… this was in my mailbox:
I’ve censored the above to protect the children, but you can imagine my reaction. The jocular grin. The vacant eyes. The devil-may-care message. All carefully chosen to lower the defenses of the recipient. To ease one into a false sense of security. To make one think “Oh look at this cute card. I bet it’s got a nice message on the back…”
At this point I’ll add that during the past few days we had boasted about our entries. Neither of us had taken this lightly. Both of us were sure of a win.
“(Mine is) good”, Bernard had texted just after mailing his, “but I made silly mistakes.”
I wasn’t fooled. This was the bluff of an expert. “Mine is superb”, I replied. “My next one will be perfect.”
It went further. A mythology was born via texts. We predicted each would be slackjawed upon receipt, and the passage of the cards through the postal service may bring carriers to their knees.
So now it was time. I had the card in my hand, and the unknown was about to be revealed. I slowly turned it over, and this is what I saw:
These words I texted him: “Jesus H Christ”
A veritable myriad of stickers in all shapes and sizes! The colours shone from the card like a rainbow, and the birds and the butterflies and the girls and the stars beckon the viewer to another more beautiful realm. The effect was sublime; for even as I feared the front of the card was the red carpet to hell I discovered instead it was the rose-petal strewn entrance to The Pure Land.
Everything about this card was exultant! This was no nightmare… this was glorious!
But this was a contest…
Later the next day, after he returned from work, Bernard also found a card in his mailbox. He chuckled at the front, no doubt muttering words like “That rogue!” under his breath as he did. Tossing his keys on the table he idly turned the card over, unsure of what he’d see but quite confident in his victory.
And then he saw this:
His only comment: “Goddamnit!”
I will leave it to the reader to actually count the stickers to determine who actually won this contest. But really does it matter?
For we have learned that this contest was as much about the journey as the destination. The act of creation alone has made us both victorious, and in sharing this art with all of you today, I think you’ll agree that everyone wins!
