Kirby: All my postcards are worth keeping

There are no shortcuts to anyplace worth going.


Beverly Sills


I welcome questions almost every time I speak to public groups, and the most common one (not concerning my little white dogs) is this: “What do you do with all those postcards?”

Twenty-plus years of collecting your summer vacation postcards has resulted in thousands of them, that I have packed away in boxes and stacked in a backroom closet. I still have them all, minus a few requested by a grade school class trying to collect one from each state, and missing a Montana or Mississippi. They don’t take up much room, and I hate to throw them away because … well, you all sent them.

Maybe one day they’ll be even more enjoyable because of what they show. I say that because Nancy Albert shared this Web site (, which has a large and delightful selection of historical cards showing scenes around Augusta. Old buildings, old gardens. There’s even a postcard showing President Taft and his family on a 1908 Christmas visit.

I particularly liked the old roadside tourist parks south of town on U.S. 1. I have seen the old sign of the Cardinal Motel for years, and one shows what it looked like in its prime.


MORE POSTCARDS: My longtime friend Jack Maffett (OK, he’s everybody’s friend) in Sandersville, Ga., spent several days on the Outer Banks and sent a couple of cards.

Brian and Mary Ellen Sartori send a card from Cape Cod (“Two days, no rain!”) Ray and Evelyn Hatton and Barbara Naugle, all of Martinez, say it “rains every day in Ohio.” But they’re having a great time. They also sent a card from Kentucky.

Winston and Cheryl Williams are still on their cruise to Alaska and send two more cards. Connie Wendt sends a card showing 16 highlights from Michigan and says, “I wish I had time to visit all the neat places.” She later added two more including a funny look at a “Michigan vacation.”

Don and Linda Smith say the weather is cool in Ketchikan, Alaska, salmon capital of the world.


TODAY’S JOKE: A farm boy accidentally overturned his wagonload of wheat on the road. The farmer that lived nearby came to investigate.

“Hey, Willis,” he called out, “forget your troubles for a while and come and have dinner with us. Then I’ll help you overturn the wagon.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Willis answered, “but I don’t think Dad would like me to.”

“Aw, come on, son!” the farmer insisted.

“OK,” the boy agreed, “but Dad won’t like it.”

After a hearty dinner, Willis thanked the host. “I feel a lot better now, but I know Dad’s going to be real upset.”

“Don’t be silly!” the neighbor said. “By the way, where is he?”

“Under the wagon,” Willis replied.