I mailed out my Christmas cards this week. Less than 20.
Times have changed.
Growing up in a family proud of its many friends, I watched every year as they decorated with the holiday cards. There must have been hundreds.
They were taped onto woodwork, up the stairs, in the archways between rooms.
They were a treasured part of their annual celebration.
When we married and moved away, I started my own tradition.
Never caring for those dreaded “form letter” updates, I chose to compose personalized letters in my own hand. It took a few days, but I was proud to do it, and believe that it was appreciated.
For some friends and family, it was the only communication we had during the year, so it mattered to me.
Later, there were more pictures than words.
Then came social media, where I could reconnect on a regular basis, any day at all.
I miss the letters, both writing and receiving them.
This year, although to fewer folks, I reinstated the tradition.