An old Christmas card....

My tongue is dry from licking, my fingers are cramped from scribbling, but when I stack 'em up and flip through them, the sound of the thick little envelopes snapping together gives me great joy. Ah--the first wave of Christmas cards is complete! I've placed them on the hall table so Hubby will remember to drop them in the box tomorrow morning.

I know, I know. Christmas cards are dated. A lot of people don't bother to send them anymore, citing 'green' reasons or 'time constraints.' Others say they are too expensive to send and too time-consuming to make--especially when they end up in the recycling bin two weeks later. I get that.

Sure, mass e-mails or e-greetings are faster and simpler, more environmentally-conscious, but to me, they lack the personal touch, the thoughtfulness that stands behind the printed image of a cat curled up by a Christmas tree or a silvery skate pond stamped onto a beautiful piece of cardstock. It makes me all warm and fuzzy to think that someone sat down one evening, opened up a box of beautiful cards and thought of me. That the author paused for a moment and wondered what he or she would write to wish me well. That in a time of text messages and voice mail, the author picked up a favourite pen (y'know the one--the ballpoint with the ink flow that is just right) and jotted down a few words in his own sprawling hand.

Really, I'm all for being granola and budget-savvy, but I won't give up my Christmas cards without a fight.

Are you up for a little history lesson?

According to Wikipedia, English printer Sir Henry Cole was of an entrepreneurial mind. He was the first to commercialize greeting cards in London in 1843--three years after he had founded the Penny Post (which in turn made mail affordable to the common people). That first Christmas card depicted a family sitting down to a holiday dinner. And, although the card illicited a bit of scandal (since the illustration shows a small child drinking wine), the greeting card was a success--two printings for a total of 2,050 cards. Each elaborately printed little card was sold for a shilling, and the new trend was readily picked up by fashionable Londoners. The greeting card craze spread across England and Europe. The Victorian tradition arrived in North America 30 years later. And, if I have my way, it's one that will continue for years to come.

I have always loved cards. Well, to be honest, I love all writing things--stationery, pens of all colours, stickers and seals, little notecards or personalized post-its, highlighters and sharpies, spiral notebooks and loose-leaf paper. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a school supply fetish (September sales are hard for me to resist!) and I can't walk into a paper or card shop without having heart palpitations.

In fact, I am so in love with paper products that my considerate Hubby has even been known to drop $40 at Staples buying up half-price Hilroys and Bic pens, in an attempt to win Brownie points with me. It works. :)

But, Christmas cards....the lovely scenes, the embossed or gilded edges, the dusty shimmer of glitter, the meticulous sweep of water-colours, the heartfelt words, the hokey greetings....these are the gems of the greeting card crown. I love them. Always have.

Perhaps my love affair with them harkens back to my grandmother's farmhouse of the 1980s. With as large a family as she has, and with so many friends across the country and in the States, it seems like she is always receiving Christmas cards in the mail. And, when I was young and before she began wintering in Florida, she would hang them up all over the farmhouse.

They weren't just seated atop the mantle or buffet or tucked into a Christmas tree as some people are wont to do. No, she actually taped them along the doorways between the rooms and strung them up all the way around the window sashes. The kitchen and the hallway and the dining room. The living room and the parlour, too. All those cards lined up together, all those warm words greeting you every time you entered a room. It was beautiful to look at, and every year, I was enchanted by the sight.

I would spend hours looking at each card, reading the notes, wondering who all these people were. Either Grandma got a lot of cards each year or she kept every one she ever received and pulled them all out each year to use as part of her Christmas décor.

But it's not just the images and words that I love. I love every aspect of the card--from the snowflake or angel stamps to the foil-lined, colourful envelopes.

I love the eager walk down the driveway to the mailbox each day. The anticipation of a raised red flag. The excitement of seeing a candy-cane striped corner or a handwritten scrawl peeping from underneath the bills and advertisements. A letter, a postcard, an invitation to a party. It's a rare form of mail these days and I love it.

Really and truly. Mail like this, Christmas mail, always delights me.

Sometimes, I can barely contain myself and rip into the envelope right there in the road. Other times, I try to savour the moment. I carry it back home, my eyes glued to the handwriting. Trying to decipher who sent it, what message it could contain. A family photo, perhaps? A Christmas newsletter? A missive from Santa?

And, if it's addressed to the girls, well.... I never open it without Brooke, but oy vey--the waiting kills me!

And, if I should receive more than one card that day? Sheer exhileration! It becomes one of the day's most notable events and I bubble over in sharing the news with Hubby or my sister. No one else seems to care much, but for me, it's very exciting. And rest assured, that the card is proudly displayed for all to see.

My love for mail--real mail--is well known. Hubby has commented to me on more than one occasion that I should work for Canada Post, as he has never known anyone to enjoy getting the mail so much as me.

One year, during a particularly barren and disappointing Christmas card haul, my Hubby started sending me Christmas cards from work, just so I would have something in the mailbox to read. It was one of the sweetest things he has ever done for me, and my eyes filled with tears at his thoughtfulness.

So, to say the least, my Christmas card business is a chore I enjoy. In fact, it's not really a chore. Sure, sitting down and scribbling for hours on end can mean a lot of work. But it's a tradition--and one that I love.

Tonight, I settled down on the sofa before a roaring fire with my pen, my list and my address book. I opened up my Christmas card box that I hauled out of my office last week. (Tangent: I wish I could say that there was some great Christmas carols playing in the background, but Hubby was watching football, so I was listening to NFL commentary, instead.)

The box is a big Rubbermaid bin, full of Christmas cards and envelopes, pens and stickers, rubber stamps and seals. (I tend to buy my cards at Boxing Day sales the year before and always buy waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than I need.) I sorted through the old cards, found the news one I planned on using this year, made sure I had extra envelopes for screw-ups and got down to business.

But not before I thumbed through my old cards.

You see, dear readers, I have never thrown out a Christmas card. Nor has any card ever made its way into my recycling bin. At least, not intentionally and not since I moved out of my mother's house.

For years, I too, taped the cards collected each year around the doorways and stairwells of our apartments, and then, our first home. So, if you've sent me a card in the past and worried what became of it, fear not. I still have it.

After I've displayed it for the season, I take down each card, carefully stack it with the others of that year, wrap them together with a rubber band and put the little bundle in my card box.

And, every year, I pull out the little bundle and go through the cards again. I admire the pictures, I read the words, I examine the photos. I remember friends far and near, friends old and new, friends long gone but never forgotten. And, every year, I admonish myself for keeping these cherished cards in my stationery box, instead of their rightful place among my keepsakes.

One day, I really will get around to scrapbooking them, giving each card a permanent home in a beautiful book that will sit on my coffee table. A holiday book that guests will be able to peruse and enjoy as I do each year. One day. But for now, it's enough for me to flip through the bundle of cards and smile at the thought of all of you, thinking of me.

P.S. I received the first card of the season last Thursday. Thank you, Brisson Family. I can't believe how big Alexandria and Charlotte have gotten. They are beautiful!!