It’s that time of the year again, and I’m ready. Sorta. Kinda. My tree is up. My lights are on. My balls are hung, uh, you know what I mean…my stocking is ready to be filled, the gifts are wrapped and beneath the tree, and there is some Christmassy stuff in the front yard. All that has been ready for weeks. The only thing left was the annual mailing of Christmas cards. Therein lies the problem.
For years when I was growing up and we got Christmas cards at home, my mother very carefully opened them, read every word, saved the envelopes and taped the cards to the doorway leading from the living room to the dining room. She never questioned the motive behind the card. It was Christmas. A card. From a friend or family member. Deck the halls…or the door.
But now, all of that has changed. Back then she went to a store, bought a box of cards, pulled out her address book and the cards from last year to make sure she didn’t miss anyone and she mailed out cards. Not any more.
Now when we pick out cards we have to be sensitive. Politically correct. Conscious of others feelings. Instead of a box of cards, we have to be aware of the message, the cover, the sentiments and what is wished. Can’t send a Christian card to a friend who is Jewish. That I understand and we have some cards that wish the recipient a Happy Holiday so they can pick the one it relates to for them.
After a career in the Army and moves all over the place and more schools for my two daughters than I can remember, and a wife who is from England with relatives all over the world, for years at Christmas time our mailbox looked like a mail drop for the United Nations. The cards had stamps from countries all over the world. One friend who worked for a government agency known only by their three initials, always had a return address in Washington, DC no matter where they were in the world.
This year when we did our Christmas cards my wife put then into a stack and told me to take them to the post office. The rest of the directions were lost on me, evidently. I went to the post office, saw a line around the block and decided to just drop them in a nearby post box and go home. On the way I called home for some unknown reason and my wife asked if I got stamps for the cards going to England, Australia and New Zealand? Oops…Have you ever gone in a post office at Christmas time, waited in line for an hour, got to the window and asked if they could go empty one of their boxes so I could get my cards and buy stamps for them? If you do, you will find that the Christmas spirit, like Elvis has left the building. While they were digging through the box, my wife called and told me I did not pick up the stack needing stamps so I didn’t have to go through the box. Christmas or not, I was told to never come back.
In case you’re in the same quandary with regard to what cards to send to whom, I have a great suggestion. Do what I do. For my friends who celebrate in ways at times I don’t understand, like my Muslim, Buddhist, Shinto, Cao Dai, Hoa Hoa, and others, I address a very nice envelope, put their name on it with a non-offensive stamp and leave the envelope empty. Let them figure out what the card would have said if I had sent it.
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