I miss postcards. Especially getting them. And not just because I collect them.
It meant that you had a friend or family member who was visiting someplace special and thought of you to share a sense of being there. It was, of course, a picture-perfect photo. No need for the sender to be in it. The accompanying note added personal context.
It’s not the same as photo-posting on Facebook, which seems to say: “Look at me.” As in, that might be the Sphinx or Niagara Falls or the Eiffel Tower, but that’s me in the foreground sharing the billing. “I’m here. You’re not. Don’t be jealous. Oh, go ahead. I don’t blame you.”
My favorite postcard line: “Having a great time. Wish you were her.”