The Postscript
The Postscript is usually funny, often thoughtful, and never political. In a world where there is no shortage of dire news, The Postscript aims to provide a small dose of positivity. It appears in print in more than 200 newspapers nationwide and is syndicated by Andrews McMeel Universal.
The Postscript
Carrie Classon is a breath of fresh air. Her journalism is down to earth and the experiences about which she writes leaves the reader with a comforting sense of empathy. If The Postscript were a cake, Carrie’s obvious passion for life would be the frosting.
— Rick Norton / Editor - Cleveland Daily Banner
Carrie Classon’s column, The Postscript, is a bright spot amidst the climate disasters, politics, and the COVID-19 death count. Many readers have commented on how they enjoy a touch of lightness with her personal stories of her family, friends, and human or canine neighbors.
—Liz Fisher, Editor – Sierra County Prospect
Carrie is witty, down to earth, yet full of deep thought about everyday life and has a wonderful way of bringing a smile to your face with her words! Our readers look forward to her column every week as if she were a personal friend writing them a letter!
—Trish Jiles /Publisher - Times-Journal
Carrie takes the flow of life and spins it into shimmering literary effervescence. After reading a few of her columns, you can’t look at the so-called commonplace again without seeing a little more than was there before. She mines the ore of everyday existence and refines it, turns it to pure heart gold.
—Lou Marzeles / Publisher - The Goldendale Sentinel
Carrie's column each week never fails to bring a chuckle or smile in a world that seems like it's always surrounded by such depressing news. She's not only one of our most consistently read columnists, but one of our most popular.
—Micah Choquette / Publisher - Sapulpa Times
Episodes
4 days ago
4 days ago
I saw Ruthie, and she had not made pickles. Maybe the cucumbers had not cooperated. Maybe she was working on other things. Maybe she just lost interest in supplying every relative in her large family with pickles. A person does not need a reason not to make pickles, and yet I felt Aunt Ruthie owed me an explanation.
Monday May 06, 2024
Monday May 06, 2024
I didn’t even know how long red squirrels lived. Three years, I later learned, is average, although some have lived up to 10 years in captivity. But even with a steady supply of seeds, I don’t think Stubby was living under optimum conditions. Somebody had already gotten the end of his tail, after all.
Monday Apr 29, 2024
Monday Apr 29, 2024
Felix enjoyed his room at the Sheraton very much. In addition to the French fries, there were a lot of places to explore, and he discovered he could hide under the dust ruffle of the bed and attack our feet. When we went to bed, he climbed up between us. “What a good cat!” I said.
Monday Apr 22, 2024
Monday Apr 22, 2024
Estefan is an older gentleman with a broad smile, and he was sitting at a sewing machine improbably parked in a tiny spot behind the beverage cooler. Estefan said he would be delighted to sew a sofa cover for us. He came to look at the sofa. He borrowed a tape measure from Peter, and he wrote a lot of numbers down on a pad of paper. Then he left with Peter’s pen in his pocket.
Monday Apr 15, 2024
Monday Apr 15, 2024
It always starts in the same way. I get a sore throat. First, I ignore it. I have found this is the best way to deal with imminent disasters. When I used to drive old cars, I would turn up the radio when I heard an ominous noise. Loud music and deliberate ignorance can take you for many miles.
Sunday Apr 14, 2024
Sunday Apr 14, 2024
There is cheese by the slice and wine and pickles and cookies and toothpicks. The only things they don’t sell at Bonanza are fresh breads, vegetables and meat—because you know you are supposed to go to the proper store to get those.
Monday Apr 01, 2024
Monday Apr 01, 2024
“There is nothing as nice as a crisp cotton sheet” is what my mother would say.
She hangs her sheets out on the line to this day, and perhaps that’s what got me thinking about perfection. Perfection has to be imperfect enough to notice it, to enjoy it, to make me pay attention.
Monday Mar 25, 2024
Monday Mar 25, 2024
Living with a cat, you start to eye gravity with suspicion. Small items that appeared to be securely in place must be scrutinized, as if living under the imminent threat of a major earthquake. Living with a cat is like living in a spaceship. Items cannot be expected to remain where they are put. Everything needs to be put inside something else to prevent it from floating away or, more accurately, batted around the house at 3 AM.
Monday Mar 18, 2024
Monday Mar 18, 2024
Maybe my writing will make somebody smile. Maybe someone will feel less alone. Maybe it will be used to line the bottom of a birdcage. But whatever happens, I’m hoping it will be useful in some small way.
Monday Mar 11, 2024
Monday Mar 11, 2024
Rod Stewart has the untidiest hair you’re likely to find on an octogenarian (outside a long-term senior care facility), and I decided he was my new role model.
Monday Mar 04, 2024
Monday Mar 04, 2024
I’ve had several cats but, as far as I can remember, I had never made breakfast for any of them. Peter scrambled up an egg and gave Felix part of it. Felix loved scrambled eggs. Then Peter got reading up on what else cats like.
Monday Feb 26, 2024
Monday Feb 26, 2024
“We have a tradition in Mexico,” Jorge told us, in English. “When you are given a plate with food, you must return it with a gift. This is what we do with our family and our friends.”
Monday Feb 19, 2024
Monday Feb 19, 2024
“What was that?” Peter asked. Peter sleeps with earplugs when we are in Mexico, but the noise outside our bedroom woke him. I went to investigate. It appeared there had been some small-scale vandalism in the night. The garbage can had been mysteriously overturned and bits of crumbled bread were all over the floor.
Monday Feb 12, 2024
Monday Feb 12, 2024
I explained to the baker (to the best of my ability) that I had a meeting at 2:00 and I would love to bring “sweets” to the meeting. The meeting, I added, was with Americans. (There will also be several Canadians, but I decided not to complicate things.) I could tell he sensed the problem. This man looked as if he’d been baking things long enough to have heard of the eccentricities of Americans.
Monday Feb 05, 2024
Monday Feb 05, 2024
Getting a piece of cake in the middle of the day adds some unexpected sweetness to the day. Peter and I don’t speak enough Spanish to know how to tell these people how grateful we are, how at home we feel, and how much their everyday kindness means to us.
Monday Jan 29, 2024
Monday Jan 29, 2024
We’ll be staying in our little one-bedroom apartment, and I’ll be writing at my little green Formica desk. It’s not the fanciest place. It’s nowhere near as nice as the homes of most of our friends. But every night our landlord, Jorge, will greet us and the colorful suns hanging from the walls around us will smile at us and we will know we have everything we need.
Monday Jan 22, 2024
Monday Jan 22, 2024
Right outside the elevator doors, they started singing the Frank Sinatra tune, “Don’t Blame Me.” The setting might not have been the most romantic, but the acoustics were perfect. Those barbershop singers brought tears to my eyes.
Monday Jan 15, 2024
Monday Jan 15, 2024
It turns out that no one cares if I stay up too late eating toffee. There is no editorial committee reviewing my statements from the previous day, informing me of how they might have been more clever or less embarrassing.
Monday Jan 08, 2024
Monday Jan 08, 2024
When I see typewriters, rather than experiencing a pleasant nostalgia, I feel something closer to dread.
Monday Jan 01, 2024
Monday Jan 01, 2024
I wondered how much we could ever know about a little red squirrel. We pretend he thinks just like us and we know, of course, this is not true. But I know he was watching, and I was glad he was there, on this day my mom was not feeling her best. I don’t know what he was pondering as he sat there, his fingers knit together, looking earnestly into the window. But he seemed very intent, as if he was contemplating something.