Prettier than pixels.

Pulled up a random prompt from Holidailies that asks, “Do you send holiday cards? Do you buy them at the store, send via email, or make your own?”

I send paper cards to clients and e-cards to friends. Usually I use Jacquie Lawson Cards for the e-cards. It’s a paid membership, but it’s handy in that you can save a list of email addresses in your account.

Sometimes I miss the Christmas card tradition. My parents would receive dozens of cards every year, easily close to 100 if not more. They were gorgeous—embossed, ornate winter or nativity scenes with envelopes lined with silver or gold foil. When we got a second dog, a German Shepard/Husky mix with a fluffy tail she wagged non-stop, setting the cards out on the end tables became an exercise in futility, so I used to string them up and hang them like garland around the house, zig-zagging them overhead down the hallways.

“Oh. Myrrh. You shouldn’t have.”

Many of them said “Merry Christmas” or “Christmas Blessings,” but many of them said “Season’s Greetings.” Back then no one made a fuss about phrases like that, or “Happy Holidays.” There was no ranting or raving about an alleged “war on Christmas” or offense taken if the word “Christmas” wasn’t on the card. Although it was assumed that you celebrated Christmas, which was why you received the card in the first place, it was also assumed that the holidays included New Year’s Day.

“All shiny now that we scrubbed that myrrh off…”

Those old cards were special. My parents and their friends didn’t have social media, so the cards gave them a way of checking in, something tangible to remind them of each other even if they hadn’t seen each other or spoken to each other in years. You could say their Christmas card lists were the original friends lists.

(Images yoinked from Pinterest, where they were yoinked from other places.)

2 thoughts on “Prettier than pixels.

    1. zenzalei Post author

      The crafty side of me says I should make cards–until I actually attempt to make them. I tried it once and my dining table looked like the aftermath of a kindergarten art class.



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