I've been scanning the post cards that were given to my father when he was growing up, all of them before 1924, I believe. In the collection are cards for most any occasion. None of them have been mailed, but most had a note on the back and were signed by the giver. I guess people just handed out the cards the way kids do Valentines today.
I'll bet World War I was going on when this Thanksgiving card was printed.
Now here are some handkerchiefs whose age I'm sure of, because they were mine as a child. Most, if not all, were given to me when I was in the hospital for a week when I was seven years old, in 1951. The doctors never did figure out what was wrong with me, but my mysterious ailment disappeared on its own. My fever finally ebbed and I stopped vomiting, so they unhooked the intravenous needles from my arm, started feeding me gradually, and sent me home.