![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFv5ZxXQoUbAyXBiuCEDCh2z8aiwVPKYb8FIVGdkpLJdROCaDkRNySK0IkZo_UZpFevmZxKT53H8Fl9MGMwPNz0jNcQ4MafEJ24N5FmzA1pvdyitL31y_4EtCrx_nEI_Jyb7rUZDSJ9UY/s400/postcard+1.jpg)
This was a time when hens in a backyard were probably more common than not, and definitely not the novelty our little urban flock is. I always wonder why the sender chose a postcard depicting chickens, over the rabbits and eggs and flowers that decorated other Easter postcards of the time. I like to think it was an affection for chickens.
I feel some guilty pleasure in reading the messages on back.
Usually the messages are simply "How are you?" or "Happy Easter". They are like split-second time travel, quick scrawled messages that remind me of pre-electronic text messages. Not much room to write, just a quick reminder or message:
"Maurice -- Can't tell yet what time I will be home. Not before the 9 o'clock train anyway -- but sometime to-morrow night. Bertha"
Dear Effie -- Say, I am waiting for a letter saying when you are coming to stay with us. I am going to stay at home now for Stanton hired Elmert Ruch. Grandma R is awful bad don't think she will last long. Bobby Kerry is getting better. Ota.
Dear Augusta -- How are you all. We are all quite well. Only a bad cold. Am sorry I did not write sooner. I tho't sure it was your turn to write or else I would of wrote. Etta
To Mildred in New York: Wishing you a happy Easter. --Mother. Don't forget my pocketbook.
Dear Brother Emil -- I thought I would drop you a note to let you know the price of that house. They want $2,000 cash because they have got to sell it cash because the people want their money and it has to be divided between them. Miss Sutter and I got in Fort Wayne all OK. We had some trip. Ha. Ha. - Clarence
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgye1XZGwzGWX5a1dXsWfLNTN-okAxXaqx9ggAatMJ4TvHZxULWCZg5mWICEuoVRntYDOkJ75H0c15xfdG9kjmMn5gDOg6F6FnhZYV0p3lDodVKy23GRdCWcBnVPMIueqwRCqezDvgCJnM/s320/postcardback.jpg)
Hello Gertrude -- Guess who? Look under the stamp. O you kid I'll get you yet. PDQ. And beneath the still barely affixed stamp, the sender wrote, "String Rubber."
They make me nostalgic for a time when correspondence was deliberate and conscious and chickens roamed a backyard or a small farm as part of the fabric of everyday life.
Love the post cards! Happy Easter...don't forget my pocketbook made me laugh!
ReplyDeleteLol -- such a "mom" comment, it made me laugh too. Happy Easter to you, too. :-)
ReplyDelete