The Postcard Project Chicago

One of my fondest memories is of a schoolwide balloon launch that we had at my elementary school. I remember the day well because I had to go to the dentist that day to get a cavity filled and my mouth was completely numb as my mother floored it in her VW Beetle to get me to school in time for the launch. 

While I wouldn’t recommend doing a balloon launch today for all of the environmental reasons listed in this article (https://www.forbes.com/sites/marshallshepherd/2019/05/28/why-the-balloon-release-tradition-is-terrible-for-the-environment/?sh=16b803c841b6), I do remember why it captured my imagination as a child. Each elementary student received one colorful helium balloon on a string, and at the bottom of the string you attached a laminated card that said something to the effect of:  “If you find my balloon, could you please write me back and let me know your name and where you found the balloon?” I’ll never forget the loudspeaker countdown in the school playground–”5, 4, 3, 2, 1 . . .”--and the image of hundreds of colorful balloons being released up into the air at the same time. It was magical. 

When reading Kristen Radtke’s Seek You: A Journey through American Loneliness, which I mentioned in a previous post (https://www.rebeccamilos.com/post/considering-the-loneliness-epidemic), I came across a scene that reminded me of this moment. Radtke describes how when her father was a boy, he became obsessed with ham radio and stayed up every night making CQ calls: She explains that,

In amateur radio, operators call out across frequencies with a series of punctuated, monotone beeps known as a  “CQ call.” When pronounced in French, the official language for international telecommunications, “CQ” sounds like the first two syllables of “sécurité,” used to mean “pay attention.” . . . A CQ call is a reaching outward, an attempt to make a connection across a wavelength with someone you’ve never met. It means, essentially, "Is there anyone out there?" and invites anyone listening to answer (19). 

There is something so lovely and poignant at the same time about the image of a boy staying up late night after night to reach out and try to connect with other people over ham radio. It’s almost like he’s out on a boat in the middle of a lake, casting his fishing line, and waiting to see whether he’ll catch something. I wonder, What was he seeking or aiming for? Did he end up connecting with a lot of different individuals, from different towns or even countries? Or was there a lot of casting out into the universe and sitting and waiting for a response? 

Inspired by the balloon launch of my childhood and Radtke’s father’s ham radio obsession, I’ve decided to try a little experiment of my own, which I’m calling The Postcard Project Chicago.

How will it work? 

So . . . since I am based in the Chicago area, I have purchased 80 postcards that look like this:

Cute, right? 

And on each postcard I am going to write something like this: 

Why am I doing this? 

Because I'm just weird. No, seriously, that’s a really good question. 

I think:

(1) Who doesn’t like to receive a postcard? 

(2) Wouldn’t it be nice to receive a message from someone far away, a complete stranger, wishing you well?

(3) I am simply curious. The question that I keep coming back to is:

"If you reach out to the universe, what will happen? Will it reach back?"

I hope that you will follow along to see how things go. Today, I wrote 5 postcards to unknown individuals in the UK, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Australia, and India. Only 75 left to go! When they are all finished, I will bring them to the post office in a huge batch and send them off!

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