Even if you don’t usually send Christmas cards or other holiday greetings, this year might deserve to be an exception. So many people are lonely and missing far-flung families due to the pandemic; getting a hand-written note in the mail may be the most human connection in a person’s day. That is well worth 55 ¢ in postage and a few minutes of your time.
I send cards sometimes; other years, I don’t get around to it.
I have written Hanukkah greetings, Christmas cards, acknowledgements of the Winter Solstice, and best wishes for happy New Years. I send the message I think the recipient would most appreciate; my religion* in no way dictates the blessing I offer a friend of a different persuasion.
My family hung the same red felt banners on the entry hall wall every year of my life. They went up early in December, empty canvasses, ready to receive holiday missives as they arrived. The oldest was made by my mother’s mother and features pockets and a waving Santa at the top; Mom had to craft another when I was little to accommodate the deluge of communiques that her sociability and dedication to friendship and public service inspired. Cards were pinned or stapled to that display.
In 2019, my mother died.
Somehow, that year also saw a huge reduction in the number of Christmas cards my widowed father received. In years past, every inch of these many yards of felt was hidden by the volume of cards and letters; last year, only one banner ended up even partially covered.
I don’t believe that people were intentionally ignoring my dad in the absence of Mom, though her enthusiasm** for Christmas did put that of other, mere mortals to shame. I received fewer cards last year, too. The dentist and the auto body shop we used only once historically sent pre-printed cards, untouched by even a secretary’s hand. A lot of that has stopped. I suppose it’s a sign of the growing reliance on electronic† communication, and I don’t miss impersonal‡ mailings from businesses too much.
Dad’s passing comment about getting so few cards, however, was like a punch in the gut to me. It was already such a hard year for him; I grieved again to see him feeling forgotten. What a dreadful time for the world to decide to save a tree and skip a mailed paper greeting!
I’m going to be sending at least a few cards this year, myself. I’m prioritizing older relatives, and those who live alone. Even if you never send cards, hate to write, or don’t celebrate any of the winter holidays, this may be a year to reach out in the spirit of warmth, light, and joy—just because.
There’s no real deadline, either, in case you’re worried about the already overburdened postal system. Send Warm Winter Wishes in January, if that feels more appropriate. After the happiest of holidays, that month can be a real let-down. After a grim, lonely season you believe should have been festive? January could be gruesome.
Our shared humanity is reason enough. Care for others is the animating gift of all societies. Winter is dark and feels too long in the good years; 2020 has not been a particularly good year for most. Pandemic winter is an enemy to us all, but a terrorizing monster to the isolated and the lonely.
Reach out, if you’ve got a few minutes, an envelope, a stamp. You’ll be making the world just that little bit better for someone else. I’m willing to bet it will brighten your day, too.
♦
* I might even argue that the very definition of faith makes the fear of someone else’s difference a rather fundamental failing of it…
** Mom liked to say that Christmas was the reason the rest of the year exists. She called herself Mother Christmas, and Dad had a song commissioned for her about that by a talented musician friend. My parents’ over-the-top outdoor decorations were so spectacular, their house was featured in a television public service announcement in the 1990’s. Mom had a unique holiday outfit for every day between Thanksgiving and Epiphany, reckoning the arrival of the Wise Men was the true end of the Christmas season.
† I wouldn’t turn back the clock to more paper spam either. This is not an argument that we return to physical documents for conducting most business.
‡ That said, I do notice, enjoy, and appreciate the personalized greetings sent by some institutions, such as my son’s school and my former personal trainer who takes the time to hand write all of his cards.
Really Wonderful Things 
In Japan, people send out new year postcards called “nengajo”. I think it is a lovely tradition, but somehow it has become an obligation and some people just print these new year postcards in bulk. I like to do handwritten messages in mine and I always look forward to sending them out.
I looked up the nengajo tradition; it does seem very nice, but also much more strict that my lazy American approach to sending cards. (Not very surprising, I suppose, when you compare the culture of Japan to the USA.)
I agree with you; the hand written message is the part that is special. Especially this year, I paid more to get all of my gifts for my dad sent to my house, then wrapped them myself, and then shipped it all in a huge (expensive!) box across the country. I wanted to include some cookies from a particular recipe (the main reason), but also felt I just had to PUT MY HANDS on the gifts for him this year. How I miss the human touch from before the pandemic!
But also, with holiday cards: I used to find them easy to do because I would write them on the airplane between where I lived (in the Northeast) and where I’m from (in the Northwest.) Flying across America takes 5-6 hours; it was the perfect time to sit and address dozens of cards.
One important lesson for airplane greeting cards: don’t buy the ones covered in sparkling glitter! My mother did this one year that she flew to me instead. She had to apologize to her seatmate from the flight who stood up at the end and had glittering trousers from the little bits shifting off her cards!
Oh my! Glitter on plane does sound disastrous! Thank you for looking up on the nengajo tradition 😀