1917 Postcard
This morning I woke up at 3:30…gave up trying to go back to sleep around 4:20…and crawled out of bed. I am officially between novels (don’t know how long that will last — one will come back, or I’ll dig out the one I plan to work on next), so I wrote a long time in my journal, then I reread a short story that I would like to submit somewhere. After that, feeling too restless to revise the story, I resorted to listening to inspirational podcasts on my laptop and tidying my office (which badly needs it). I didn’t make a huge amount of progress on the tidying, but I did find a CD of family photos, given to me by my sister a few years ago.
Among the photos I found this postcard from 1917. The text reads, “Dear friend how / do you like the East / by this time / I will write more next time / anser soon / Thurman.” It’s addressed to my grandfather, Eugene King, in Sparta, North Carolina (in the military?) and the picture is of a driveway (if the caption is to be believed) in Sheridan, Oregon. I think the bottom line on the back of the card says, “In car of JT Carpenter.”
Here’s my poem for today. (If it’s a poem.)
While you’ve been in Sparta
the world has tipped sideways
and spilled out a barrel of shiny new things.
Among which, J.T. bought a Ford.
When you get home we’ll fix you up
with Hazel M., who, if you look
hard enough you’ll see peeking into
your future from the rumble seat.
I love this poem and the postcard inspiration.
That’s why it’s important to clean our messy offices, which remain more messy after the cleaning, because we find these wonderful buried treasures, a post card, a letter, a picture, a memory and in your case the memory becomes a poem. And we are grateful and the mess isn’t really a mess, it’s a treasure trove.
Thank you both! My grandfather Eugene, who died when I was three, was a poet, too. When he was in the Seabees he signed his letters home (to Hazel) “Your poet, Gene.”