Don’t Rock the Postcard

     Now, although this is the Interwebs, we really need to be fair to both sides here.  For every maritime disaster postcard, there are a hundred showing boats and ships going about their business without calamity.  The places which sold postcards sometimes had a vested interest in reminding you of the peaceful, calming effects of travel.

     Still, most postcards were mailed by people who were traveling.  And whether out of joy at having eluded a soggy fate or rueful admission that not everything about the vacation turned out exactly as desired, the other kind of card is common, too.

     Everybody could laugh at—and some could sympathize with—postcards about being seasick.  (Note to self: is no one ever lakesick or riversick?)  This byproduct of going out on the water is so well-known that Lord Dunsany wrote a short story about a man whose great failing is merely the FEAR of being seasick, which he describes as far worse than the condition itself.

     Although it is the most famous result, seasickness is not the only way turbulent seas can lead to a loss of lunch.  (The waiter was doing so well, too, until he was chosen as an emergency handrail.)

     There must be thousands of postcards showing the elegance and serenity of yachts as they sail along on the breeze.  Only a few point out the adventures to be had by weekend sailors.

     Bringing to mind the fine old joke about the newly rich businessman who bought himself a yacht and went to show his mother how he looked in his captain’s uniform.  His mother nodded sagely and reminded him, “By me, son, are you a captain.  And by you are you a captain.  But remember, my boy, by captains you are no captain.”

     For sheer contrariment, however, the postcard artists preferred a canoe.  This may be the one area where people having trouble with a kind of boat outnumber those who are enjoying a peaceful glide.

     In fact, the number of postcards showing exactly this situation–woman and waterfall, leaking canoe, man with broken belt grabbing at branch while stinging insects head for the largest target—that I may, once the Powerball picks the right numbers, do deep research and find out which artist originated the classic.

     Of course, as one person with experience in camping and hiking told me, “Anything is seven times as difficult in a canoe.”

     We have already examined THIS phenomenon in some detail.  (Without determining who started this joke either.)  But leaving it out of the discussion would be gross neglect.

     The moral of the story is that whether you come back from your boat ride afloat, adrift, or afoot, just grin and buy a postcard.  The cartoonists will gladly throw you a line.

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