There are profound rewards of handwritten correspondence in our digital age

I sent my first postcard, as a six-year old, to Olympian Mary Lou Retton, who returned an autographed black and white photo of herself in a wide smile and chic haircut. “‘GOOD LUCK USA ‘84” it said.

There followed four relatively fallow decades for me as a postcard sender or receiver until last year, when I became enchanted by the infinite possibilities available in four by six inches.

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