Ten Feet from Hell; or, Tell It to the Vintage Postcard

Here’s another vintage postcard, courtesy of Bob Heman. Its hokiness portrays one of the most desolate, awe-inspiring, and dangerous national parks in the United States, Death Valley. (Well, dangerous for the unobservant tourist who forgets water or relies solely on their car’s GPS system.)

For me the front symbolizes those postcard-selling havens of air-conditioning that . . . → Read More: Ten Feet from Hell; or, Tell It to the Vintage Postcard

The Muse of the West, Too; or, Vintage Postcard Tells the Other Side

There are those people who stand in the middle of fragrant sage or wide, billowing prairies,

amidst Joshua trees or whispering pines

and LIKE IT.

And then there are those who DON’T.

Poor Real. Probably missed the lawns and picket fences . . . → Read More: The Muse of the West, Too; or, Vintage Postcard Tells the Other Side

The Muse of the West; or, Vintage Postcard Says It All

When I took my first step out West–off a Greyhound bus onto the soil of Colorado–I said, “No.”

No meant N-O to being a teacher there, to living there, to being part of its Flatirons and Rockies. It was the part of me that wanted the concrete canyons of New York (and still does). But like a . . . → Read More: The Muse of the West; or, Vintage Postcard Says It All