In the old days, before iPhones and Facebook, Google maps and email,
people used to give parties. Especially around Christmas and,
occasionally, Fourth of July. You got an invitation in the mail. Or, if
it was your party, you sent one. You bought boxes of invitations at this
place called a stationery store. A place you’d been going to with your
mother since you could remember. It’s where she went to buy boxes of
invitations and note paper and sympathy cards and fasteners and clips,
adhesives and ink cartridges for those fancy pens she used – the ones
that let her hold her place on the page while she guided though names
and addresses on the envelopes of invitations. The simplest of names –
Mr. & Mrs. Phillip M. Popkinsthe plainest of addresses –
19 Red Robin Lanetransformed into what looked like snippets from the Gettysburg Address.
Four Score Square. c/o the Lincolns.
This was before CostCo ran the little stationery store out of town. (
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