I’m introducing a new blog feature. It is kind of similar to my monthly post “Overheard In,” but instead of eavesdropping on individuals via listening, I am eavesdropping into the past through old postcards.
One of my many collections consists of old postcards that people have written on.
It is like a peek into that family’s soul sphere. Yes, I did just write “soul sphere.” And I made that word up. Blame my thighs. They are responsible for most of my bad decisions.
I pick the postcards that speak to me.
Only my thighs can understand the words, though.
Today we have:
This post card was posted on September 12, 1947.
Dear Jean, and all.
It is now 12:30 a.m. Just got in this is where I stayed last night and again tonight. Lots of people at fair today (Thu). I am out of rubber mops. Just taking mail orders now. Lots of love.
S. H. M.
Or rather, what?
I looked up “rubber mops” to write this post, but cannot find anything on them in the 1940’s. I think it is a good thing that he ran out of rubber mops. I think S. H. M. was a rubber mop sales person or invented rubber mops? What could the initials S. H. M. stand for?
Swiffer Hater Man
Sells Hoarders Mops
Spanks Helper Monkeys (Sorry. Wrong post.)
Saves Happy Maids
I wonder if Jean received this letter and was excited that all the mops were sold. I wonder if she was going to get some of the mop money.
Had she been doubtful of this venture? Was he like, “Honey, I’m going to invest all of our money into mops made of rubber. And sell them at a fair.”
Did she cry into her mop made of yarn as he left for the fair?
So many questions.
I do not think I have ever used a mop.
I certainly have never purchased one (Swiffer user).
S. H. M. would be so disappointed in me.
Now my thighs are crying.
Where’s a rubber mop when you need one?
I guess they were all sold out at a fair in the summer of 1947.
P.S. I shared this on Savvy Southern Style.
And My Romantic Home.