Bah humbug!!

To me, Christmas cards represent the best and the worst about the holiday season. Don’t get me wrong, I love receiving them. It’s the sending part that I hate. It’s a long story.

When I was a kid, my mother sent cards to only extended family and out-of-town friends. “Why would I send cards to people I see every day? I can wish them a Merry Christmas in person without wasting a card and a 3-cent stamp.” Imagine that price. I do remember buying 3-cent stamps.

We received a handful of cards each year to hang on the dining room mantle. But Mom always bemoaned how none of the cheap relatives sent one in return.

I didn’t send cards myself until I was married. When my late husband and I sat down to talk about it, he informed me it was a needless expense. And I informed him that I wanted to send cards because we were now a family, and that’s what families do. Grudgingly, he made up a list – family and friends, no mere acquaintances. That was the year I discovered how many first cousins he had.

Tom’s father was one of nine children, his mother one of six. They all married and had a buncha kids. A big bunch. So, the first year, we sent to all his aunts, uncles and 48 first cousins. He added a few close neighbors from home, his best high school friends, a double handful of fraternity brothers, and Navy buddies from flight school. His list was over 100. “OMG, you’ve got be kidding!” I said. It redefined “be careful what you wish for.”

My list included friends from home, cousins, and a few college and work friends. Oh, and I invited everyone who came to our wedding. Our total was 150. Stamps were 6 cents.

Following a few moves, we added more Navy friends and work friends because we wanted to keep in touch. Adding Tom’s friends from graduate school, the list grew to 250+.

After our first baby arrived, naturally we wanted to tell our Christmas card friends about the world’s most perfect child. But with work, new home ownership, and an 80-mile commute, I struggled to get them out on time. When I asked Tom to send to his relatives and friends, he suggested we have the cards and enclosed letter printed. I was secretly thrilled. Stamps were 8 cents.

Four Christmases later, after the male version of the perfect child had arrived, I couldn’t. I had been in the hospital from Thanksgiving to late January, and Christmas cards were the last thing on our minds.

The following Christmas, when I looked at the enormous list and considered resurrecting it, the only two words I could come up with were “Heck, no.” I quit. And it has remained that way for 46 years. Stamps were then 13 cents.

There are times I’m sad about it. We lost track of a lot of friends after dropping out of the annual exchange. And gradually, our recipients stopped sending. We stopped learning about new babies, job moves, and new homes. As our friends aged, we no longer knew about children’s graduations, marriages, grandchildren. People moved and fell off the map. Friends died and we found out five years later.

I love looking at other peoples’ Christmas cards, and I have a deep appreciation for a well-written annual letter. However, there was a business friend who sent a long holiday letter – single spaced, both sides. She raved about the family’s individual accomplishments, followed by all their magnificent purchases and trips of the previous year. This card slipped out of a gold-lined envelope filled with glittery confetti. That braggadocio simultaneously ruined my mood and my carpet. The only personal note at the bottom said, “We hope you’ve had as grand a year as we have.” Tom had added five points to his golf handicap, I’d had neck surgery, and the cat had gone toes up.

Today, I admire my daughter and her husband, Ian. After 23 years of marriage, they still send out an enviable Christmas card. They compile a small photo montage and a brief Christmas letter is printed on the back. They hand sign each one with a personal note. They split their list. Ian’s includes relatives and friends in the U.K. and Chile while Alix’s list extends to many of our older friends in Warren. One 94-year-old friend is always happy when she receives it, then hangs it on her refrigerator all year.

Their cards aren’t always on time, but all that detailed attention has to fit into busy lives. It is important to them that they keep in touch, and I am applauding loudly from the sidelines.

Their list is 250-plus. And stamps are 60 cents.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com