Postcards from the edge

But she'll never reach the pool! 

My grandmother sent this postcard to me from Arkansas when I was a kid. She was trying to let me know she was thinking of me, but this card was disturbing. First thing was that 50 foot tall woman diving off the hotel. (I had just seen "Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman" and it scared the beejeezus out of me. As a 12 year old, of course, I was titillated by the movie's depiction of a giant woman running around in her underwear like a model from Sears' catalogue. A grown woman in bra and panties. And not even your Mom. Wow. But when Queen Kong started calling in that weird giant voice for her drunken lout of a husband just before she quished him, it was too, too creepy.)

And it didn't help that the streets in the postcard were totally empty. Like in "Twilight Zone" when a guy wakes up to find himself all alone in the world, except for this incredibly beautiful (normal sized) woman who is really some kind of spider-snake thing that eats his face off in the last scene. Thanks, Granny. Good thing you taught me "Now I lay me down to sleep..."

Now, I wasn't a dumb kid, and I reckoned this postcard was supposed to be "artistic," but that part escaped me too. What's artistic about diving into blue concrete? And the card was from Arkansas, for goodness sake - even I knew there were no palm trees in Arkansas. And didn't they have cars there? I'm not sure I ever asked grandma about these things when she returned. I'm sure she could have answered me. She was a very smart woman.

Happy Women's Month, Grandma.