(The column for The Altavista Journal last week.)
Late Night Radio–With Josh Urban
Send Me A Postcard or Something
Welcome back to the show, folks! There's an idea cooking today, and, of course, a story.
There! A splash of color in the mailbox that summer afternoon long ago. A postcard bison peeked out among stack of bills for mom and dad. “Yellowstone National Park.” An electric tingle. The cute girl's handwriting said hello in smudged pencil. Huh? After a moment, my fourteen year old brain solved the equation. Wait...she's thinking of me on vacation! I eyed the stamp to be sure. Yep, it's real. Cool! I've liked postcards ever since. Why aren't they more popular?
Maybe it's those darn smartphones. The psychology researchers say they're making us feel isolated. (Ya think?) We've got endless screens, texts, and social media to keep in touch, but–is quantity replacing quality? If so, what might we do about it?
Loneliness is a tough customer. It shows up at any age, at any time. Frank Sinatra was right again a few days ago: “Saturday Night is the loneliest night of the week.”
I stood in a doorway last Saturday evening, listening.
“Sometimes I feel like a tree all by itself in the middle of a field” the elderly lady said, a roommate of a friend convalescing from surgery. On my way out, she struck up a conversation.
“My husband is gone. My daughter is gone. My friends are gone. There's nobody left to talk about the old days.”
My 97 year old grandma tells me the same thing. “It's hard when all your pals are dead.”
A classic guy, I immediately try to fix it. (While that's probably impossible, isn't it important to at least extend a hand?) Through COVID, I did some letter-writing to buddies trapped in retirement homes, which turned into a newsletter for a wider audience, which spun into this column. While we all hope your spirits are lifted by the witty remarks (ha), it would be nice to have a conversation, wouldn't it?
So here's the big idea: let's have a postcard exchange. (A letter works, too.) Send me one to PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588, and I'll send you one back. Why? Well, why not? We're all neighbors, and it would be nice to remember that. Send a joke, a recipe, a memory, or a story. It doesn't matter if you're young, old, medium, lonely, or the happiest fellow around.
I've already started. Two weeks ago, up at Big Meadows, I snagged a postcard for the first time in twenty years, and sent it to an adopted grandma buddy.
Maybe when the nurse knocks on her door with the mail, a hint of a mountain breeze will blow down the hall. Maybe, if this grandma buddy holds up the picture of the park to her ear, the lazy buzzing of bees in July clover will whisper through the paper. And even if she can't see the endless vistas towards West Virginia hazy in the noontime sun, she'll know I thought of her while I was on vacation.
I'll be keeping an eye on the mail.
Catch you on the flip side,
- Josh
Heading north towards the Peaks of Otter