It’s only December 2nd but we’ve already received our first Christmas card: friends Jim and Debra dressed for the tundra in photos with some polar bears.
That’s right. I said polar bears.
I’m big on Christmas cards. Yes. I’m one of those people. I like receiving them and I like sending them out. I like figuring out what kind of card I’m going to send, which picture(s) I’m going to use, whether I’m going with red or green or blue, snowflakes or gingerbread houses, etc…. I remember the year we made my teenage son wear a santa hat (poor kid); the year JoJo was a puppy; the year an old friend saw our first family photo on a card and said, “I can’t believe you’re somebody’s mother!”; the year my mother said, “Why in the world did you use black and white?”
Now that most folks send photo-cards, opening the mail everyday in December might be one of the things I look forward to the most: maybe I haven’t seen you all year long and, voila, there you are. You and your kids and your cats and dogs … your life, so far away, come to call. When I tear open an envelope and find a card with no photo I am visibly disappointed, and maybe I’ve even been known to say something out loud like, “But where’s the picture?!” or “What’s the point?” or “Well, shit.”
I talked to a friend today, and she reminded me of this card that I sent out exactly 10 years ago. That’s our Scout, affectionately known as Bubba. Bubba’s card goes down in family lore as one of our favorites — isn’t she a beauty? — and who could have known that our young girl would be gone (cancer) before the next year’s Christmas rolled around.
I did a simple card this year. Green. Lots of small photos. Snowflakes. Not a polar bear in sight. But they’re addressed and stuffed and stamped and ready to drop at the post office.
Do you bother with Christmas cards?