I post this only to serve as contrast to the Greetings from Bangor postcard of a few days ago. Whereas the design of that card was warm and inviting, this one is cold and bleak. This is the ridiculed Cleveland of my youth, when the river caught fire, all the sports teams came in last place, and where heavy metal was cool. No one from Cleveland says howdy.
I feel like this card had to have been printed in the early-to-mid 1950s, but it wasn’t sent until 1967. Someone writing someone to tell them they were pausing here and hoped to be in Canada by nightfall. I imagine it was purchased at some grimy gas station off the interstate from a rotating metal display rack, the only linen postcard left amongst a sea of blurry Kodachromes of moose. The only problem with that story is that this one was in absolute mint condition – it doesn’t look like it spent a decade being exposed to cigarette smoke and hot dog vapors.