I haven’t sent holiday cards in years. Maybe even more than years. Maybe it’s been a decade. Whatever the time frame, it was a very freeing act of social defiance. No more trying to buy the “right” card, no address lists, no accidentally (or on purpose) forgotten relatives, no postage to buy (take that, post office, you and your "forever" stamps), and no names to sign (should I include Fluffy?).
Drawing from http://annemichelsen.wordpress.com.
All of this is the upside. The downside is that I don’t get as many cards sent to me as I’ve been taken off other people’s lists. Although, now that I think about it, it may not be a downside. Not because I don't want to hear from anyone, but because I don't want to feel guilty about my choice.
Hence, I have been considering the holiday letter. One in which I tell everyone my business, except not really. I’d make it funny. I’d try to channel my dad.
Bruce Willis is not my dad. My dad, however, looks very much like Bruce Willis, so now when you read the words "my dad," you will think of Bruce Willis.
When I was a teenager, my parents went on a trip and met a couple about their age. As I recall, they were outgoing, vivacious, entertainment industry types. The couple, not my parents. Most definitely not my parents. The couple took a liking to my parents and added them to their holiday letter list, so they could share with them news of their wonderful careers, their brilliant children, their fabulous travels, and everything else in their shiny, sparkly world.
From Shutterstock.com, but I think there is something subliminal going on here.
Note: I do not begrudge shiny and sparkly. In fact, I love me some shiny and sparkly. I am also pleased when people are having nice lives, because you generally don’t get to hear much about genuine happiness.
So, one year, after having received one of these letters, my dad sent the couple his own holiday letter. I wish I had a copy of it. I only remember that it was full of my dad’s sense of humor, which is a cross between cynical and sarcastic, and so dry you could make jerky with it. It is also hilarious. I can’t remember the contents of the letter, except, of course, the part about me. I was probably 16 or 17 at the time, and I believe my dad referenced my staying out late at night and having suspicions that I was a vampire.
Remember, this was four decades before vampires were trendy. Or pretty.
There was other hilarity in my dad's letter, including, I’m sure, stuff like how their house was falling apart and their jobs sucked. Which doesn’t sound hilarious as it’s written here, but, trust me, my dad is a real card.
The awesomest card ever from Redbubble.com.