Kids, Cards, and Connect: The Lost Art of Post Cards

Kids, Cards, and Connect: The Lost At of Post Cards

It’s Summertime and the livin’s easy! Yeah right! Whoever made that phrase doesn’t have kids! It might be summer time, but now your kids are going to summer camp, day camp, overnight camp, half day camp, or even summer school (if they didn’t do too well during the semester). During the school year, the kids have a set schedule, going in the morning and out in the afternoon. Now that it’s summertime, you have to pay through the nose to have someone else watch your kids. Also, they aren’t learning anything except how to operate the YouTube on the Internet machine. Also, your kids are on VACATION. Which means, they don’t have to read a book, solve a math problem, or even use their manners until September. Well, that’s what they believe, although we all know they have to at least use their manners during the summer. So, as I am driving down the road, with the family in the back or the car, and pulling into our vacation destination (that I can reasonably bring my family of four without going broke), these are the things I am thinking about. I park the car, check into the hotel, then we park the family vehicle in the parking lot.

“Son,” I say, “Go to the main entrance and get us a cart.”

“But Dad,” My son whines, “That’s all the way over there. He points towards the hotel entrance with his finger like I was asking him to walk a mile and a half for a cart.

I look over at him and reply, “Listen. First, you complain that you’ve been in the car for hours upon hours. Then, when you have an opportunity to stretch your legs you …”

I didn’t have time to finish the sentence.

My daughter opened her door, jumped out of the car and retrieved a cart faster than a cheetah tackling an antelope! Within a few seconds, she has opened the back of the vehicle, put the luggage on the cart, and is rolling away. My wife opens her door, stretches for a second, and sees my daughter taking the luggage to the hotel.

I ask my wife, “What the heck just happened here?”

My wife replies, “She has wanted to be at this place since September of last year. I’m not surprised.”

She checks her pockets, “I think she took my key!”

I look worried, “We only have one key!”

I shut the door, ensure all of the other doors are closed as well, Click the key FOB to ensure the car is locked, and all of us take off to the hotel room. We get to the room in record time! Fortunately, my daughter didn’t lock us out of the room.

She was already getting a bathing suit on, then running past us, and down to the pool. Once realizing where we were, my son got into his bathing suit and ran down to the pool. My wife and I were there in the middle of the bedroom, and the kids are gone. We look at each other, lovingly, like we used to so many years ago.

We walk towards each other in the middle of the room, hold hands, then I say, “I wonder if Elizabeth took the key?”

My wife looked over at the dresser, perched on one side of the room, and said, “There it is.” I replied, “Good.”

I walked over to the door, put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door handle and shut the door. No. Just kidding. We didn’t do that!

We got into our bathing suits and went down to join the kids. On the way, we went to the little gift store and there, on its own rack was a couple of postcards. I looked through the collection. A few of the hotel grabbed my eye, and I bought them. The cashier was in her early twenties, sitting on a bar stool, plugged into her portable laptop, and chewing bubble gum.

I asked the cashier, “Do you have any postcard stamps?”

She replied, “What?”

I say, “Postcard stamps.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They are stamps … for postcards.”

“They make stamps for postcards?”

“That’s what I am asking you for. Postcard stamps.”

“How much do they usually cost?”

“About thirty-five cents.”


“So, I am assuming that you don’t carry postcard stamps.”

“Yeah. We don’t carry those.”

“But you carry the postcards?”



“People pay for the pictures.”


I really couldn’t argue with that. So the cashier put the cards in a bag, and I left the gift shop. A few hours later, all of us were tired of the pool, already had dinner, and were in the hotel room. I took the postcards out fo the bag and gave one to each of my kids.

My son looked at me and said, “What’s this?”

“It’s a postcard.”


My daughter chimes in, “What are we suppose to do with these?”

I reply, “You write on them.”

My son says, “What do you write on them?”

“You write a message to someone you care about?”

“Really? Why can’t we send them an email.”

“We could send them an email, but this is more personal.”

My daughter says, “How long does it take to get to her?”

I reply, “Maybe about five days.”

My daughter looks confused, “Five days?”

“Yeah. It takes some time to get letters through the mail.”

My daughter asks, “Do you have a special printer?”

My son chimes in and say, “No. Remember that device that had the keys … the typewriter.”

I reply, “You don’t have to use a typewriter. You use your handwriting.”

My daughter looked at me and said, “Write with my hands? Then no one could read it?”

I thought about it a second. Maybe trying to have the kids send out postcards is a bridge too far. Then, my son handed me back his postcard with the following message: “Dear Dad, I am writing this postcard to you so you can remember this particular time we had together over summer break. Love, Your Son”

I read the message then said, “You see how special it is? Now, when I get home. I’ll have something to remember this time together. Thanks.”

My daughter then handed me her postcard, which was also addressed to me. It read: “Dear Dad, What your son said … times two! Love, Your Daughter”

I look at my daughter and say, “Your card, and your brother’s, will go in the office once I get home. It is true, maybe I didn’t get the kids to understand why sending postcards are important. But, at least, I have a few memories that will last a lifetime. Also, the ability to put these pictures in my house is nice as well. That’s it for the blog! Thank you for reading! If you have any comments, please leave them in the area below.

Originally published at



Life is short. This blog is shorter. You could have spent your time reading all sorts or articles, but I am glad you are reading mine.

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Nick Stockton

Life is short. This blog is shorter. You could have spent your time reading all sorts or articles, but I am glad you are reading mine.