It’s been a challenging year at our house. Christmas came and went with nary a cookie baked nor card sent. “Later on” was the plan; I would get caught up…there would be long, explanatory missives sent. But the thing about plans is that they go awry. Easter is looming and I am reading holiday cards from December. But I am reading them with a new attitude. The article below was written in 2007 and my “perspective”. about the content has changed. Every message of any kind brings back fond memories of the sender and is cherished.
Some people do, some people don’t
Some people will, some people won’t
Some folks groan at the very mention,
While others give them enthusiastic attention
I used to be one of the groaners but I’ve graduated to the enthusiastic group. What I once deplored, as both reader and writer, has become something I genuinely look forward to. The creeping calendar has given me a very different perspective on a lot of things, and this is one of them.
I’m ‘talking about the “Christmas Letter”, those annual missives in the mailbox heralding the holiday season. We all get them; they’ve become a part of our culture as we’ve evolved from writing personal notes by hand, as my mother’s generation did, to the widespread acceptance of writing one message to be read by everyone. Some of those messages are well written; others merely an account of accomplishments (always outstanding) by every member of the family with nary a failure, disappointment, or piece of negative news.
Someone, (not me) wrote a humorous parody on an imaginary Martha Stewart communiqué: “This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. Then it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests who will be arriving soon. I’m serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast. I decided to add just a touch of the holidays so I repainted the dining room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling. Before they get here I need to finish the buttonholes on the dress I’m wearing, then I’ll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope.”
Over the years we’ve received a few that were nearly that ludicrous. Someone we casually knew decades ago and haven’t seen since annually sends 3-page descriptions of their perfect life. One can’t help but wonder whether she is trying to be funny but I suspect not, and they’ve become something of a family ritual in our house. “And what did Mrs. X have to say this year?” my now adult children will ask with a laugh. Other letters are written in the 3rd person, leaving us to wonder whether the family cat may be telling the tale.
But another friend sends letters that are so wonderful I haunt the mailbox in eager anticipation every December and sit down to savor it with a cup of tea the moment it arrives. Her life is far from perfect and she writes with such candor and wry humor about coping with the warts in life we all experience it’s a joy to read.
The first holiday letter to reach our house is always from a particular couple, usually well before Thanksgiving. When it arrives, the season is officially here. For many years that return address served only to remind me how disorganized I am by comparison so instead of just enjoying it, it made me mutter and fret about my perpetual inefficiency. I’ve also been know to grumble about the whole idea of the busiest time of the year being the same time we’re supposed to write to everyone in the address book. But that was long ago.
I have had a love/hate relationship with this concept. My New Year’s resolutions invariably include the intent to keep in touch with everyone on a personal level throughout the year but that never seems to happen. Before I know it, another 12 months have passed and I’m caught up in the frenzy of sending greetings in group letter form, postmarked December 24th if I’m lucky. (One year it was mailed in time for Groundhog Day.)
But time changes our perspective. In this chapter of life I welcome all of these “group” missives—the longer the better–and I take pleasure in reading what friends are doing, how they are, what the past year brought them and, since we’ve reached the “medical issues” phase, how their health is. I treasure the opportunity to catch up, remember them fondly and reflect on experiences we shared in that cherished chapter of our lives; even the ones written by the family cat. Reading them prompts me to sit down to compose our own letter. As I relate the events of our year, I see our friends in my mind’s eye and keep them in my heart. What a lovely image.
