Christmas holiday is a frenetic time of year. In the last hours, I’m dashing off to a sporting goods store or a jewelry shop. Nothing is done until the very last minute.
A good portion of the holiday stress can be attributed to Christmas cards, those innocent expressions of faith and harmony. Every year, we receive dozens of cards and I read every one.
Our own holiday card is an annual train wreck. It usually begins with a hastily taken photo (this year’s was at the Hotel Roanoke) with four children in various stages of distress. My wife Sharon orders the cards on-line and we pick them up. This year we ordered 1,500 cards, with envelopes and stamps.
The next few days are a flurry of mass production. As my children have gotten older and shrewder, they have bargained up the hourly rates for stuffing envelopes. (They are immune to my point that “family owned businesses” are exempt from minimum wage).
The toughest part is going through the labels and trying to update addresses and edit certain recipients. Sadly, we have to remove a dozen names a year for being deceased. If you moved recently, it will take us 1-2 years to find you.
For close friends and family, Sharon drafts an annual newsletter, which is designed to give light-hearted news of our clan. She’s a great writer. Unfortunately, she doesn’t like to work on deadline. (As a result, the newsletters often go out in January).
Maybe it’s easier to just put the card on Facebook.