Certain people — grandmothers, eccentric aunts, and home insurance reps — are doing their darnedest to keep a single old fashioned holiday tradition alive: the Christmas card. These days, in lieu of handwritten heart felt sentiments, many of us have taken to more impersonal e-greetings and family newsletters composed with long-winded, North Korean-like sanguinity.
These are sad times for Christmas cards.
Seeing as I serve as Secretariat General of the Eccentric Aunt Club, I feel it my rightful honor – nay, duty –to keep this tradition going. I will make cards. I will purchase brightly colored envelopes. I will practice my penmanship until I my wrist grows weary with fatigue and collapses forward like a flappy ragdoll. Christmas cheer will spill forth from my heart, my butt, and my mailbox. Even if it kills me.
Is it disappointing to survey my mail at the end of every December and realize that I send far more than I receive? Yes. Do I let that stop me and my extensive collection of US Postal Service issued Kwanza stamps? Like Hell It Does.
Blitzen, bring on the glue sticks! We have envelopes to seal!
I try to keep samples of my cards each year, although that rarely happens. I either forget or spill Peppermint Schnapps on it, or more likely, end up using the sample to wrap a last minute gift card to Starbucks or something.
Holiday cheaters tip: thoughtless and/or cheap and/or obligational gifts (read: $5 gift cards) come across a lot more genuine when delivered with something handmade. Like a card. Not a gift – a card. Look, everyone likes something homemade, but honestly, you don’t have to stay up half the night crocheting pot holders for your middle schooler's teachers. For real. Listen, that woman has been teaching 130 kids a day for 18 years now. Do you know how many effing pot holders she has already? Buy her a cup of coffee. Can’t afford the coffee? Fair enough, just give her a homemade card and let her know she is important to you and your child, and that you appreciate the hard work she puts in each day. Because let’s face it; if it comes down to someone Feeling Important in the Life of a Child vs. Potholder –which one you think she is going to choose?
Sucks to be you right now, Potholder.
Okay. About the card. Rest assured, no valuable books were harmed in the making of these cards. I don’t have a problem with people cutting up old/unreadable books but there is a freakishly high number of Librarians who read this blog and who believe otherwise and who like to send me scathing emails so hot and pointed they’de set underpants afire. So let’s just say I used junk mail. Telephone books, and outdated text books, and yes – a few pages from an old Hardy Boys book that was literally crumbling at the corners. I tore them into trapezoid shapes, piled them up and pasted them down with rubber cement. That's it.
|I have a thing about mail. It comes from my father.|
Do you send holiday cards? Are you thinking about it this year? If you do, then,Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I have a favor to ask.
I would like you to add one more card to your list. This is the address:
Ed and Betty Vogel
425 E. Coleman Rd.
Clare, MI 48617
425 E. Coleman Rd.
Clare, MI 48617
Just sign your name with love. No explanation needed. A handmade card would be beautiful, but any card would be nice.
See, this Christmas is likely to be Miss Betty’s last. She was recently diagnosed with stage four lung cancer. Her beautiful granddaughter – and my fellow craft blogger, Mrs. Greene— is brightening her spirits by asking as many people as possible to send her cards. I am asking you to do the same. Take a moment to read more about it here, then get a card, grab a stamp, and send Miss Betty a smile.
OR BETTER YET, tell someone about it! Friends, neighbors, co-workers…a blog? A church group? Tell them to send a card too. Tell everyone you know. Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere. Go tell it one the mountain, and include THIS LINK.
Let’s show Miss Betty some love. Let’s share an act of kindness with a stranger and embrace the guts of what Christmas is all about. Let’s make sure her postal carrier needs a Mack truck to deliver all that love and kindness to her front door.
Merry Christmas, Miss Betty.