Ann
Ipock
Humorist,
author, speaker
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Georgetown Times
Saving, savoring
family holiday cards
By Ann Ipock January
26, 2005
Two weeks after Christmas, my husband, Russell, asked me what I planned
to do with “that pile of Christmas cards” stashed in a wicker
basket on the hearth.
Maybe I’m overly sentimental, but I like holding onto holiday cards
(and other cards, too). In our family, it’s a tradition for Kelly,
our oldest daughter, to read through the cards when she visits.
She gets a kick out of checking up on our friends. In fact, she previously
lived here and graduated from Coastal Carolina University. Then she moved
to Raleigh to teach school and settled down there with her husband, Chuck,
and daughter, Madison, age 3.
Each Christmas, she’ll sit down with me on the sofa and take her
time poring over every card. “So, the Blantons are living in Beaufort?”
Or else, “Omigosh, when did Emmie Lou stop making fishing nets?”
But she gets most excited when photos are included — and truth be
told — so do I. In that case, she’ll say, “My, when
did Kennedy get so tall?” Or, “Boy, do I feel old. I taught
Chandler at Myrtle Beach Primary 12 years ago. Now he’s in college.”
We both become disappointed and puzzled when the parents are not in the
photo, but only the children. After all, it’s a family Christmas
card and we want to see the entire family!
This year Kelly sent a Christmas post card family photo — a great
idea — which I have displayed on my refrigerator. And she began
a new tradition: when she came to visit, she brought the current Christmas
cards she’d received. That was exciting, seeing photos of her friends
from college, or from her current neighborhood, and reading their latest
news.
Receiving photos without the parent(s) is such a letdown. I compare it
to cooking dinner for the kids and not joining in the meal yourself; or,
planning your child’s birthday party and then leaving your house,
just as the guests arrive.
Everybody can join in the fun of Christmas snapshots! So what if we parents
have lost some youth and vitality, compared to our children? What’s
the big deal about gaining a few pounds or sprouting a few gray hairs
— or losing a few hairs, for that matter?
Who cares? Don’t keep your friends and family in suspense —
show us what you look like now. Most of us parents have been through several
changes since high school and childbirth. That’s what makes the
photos so charming (and irresistible).
Speaking of photos, my neighbor Kim Teeples, asked me in December to take
an outdoors photo of her family for a Christmas card, including her two
darling boys, her husband and herself. Charlie and Will were dressed in
matching shirts and rolled-up blue jeans, barefooted. Darling! Kim had
on a stylish poncho, and Lamont was his usual handsome self.
It was reassuring to know someone else likes to see the ENTIRE FAMILY
in the picture! I snapped three to four times, the usual straight-on shot.
Then I knelt down and pushed the zoom lens, saying: “Now I’ll
get really creative. I’ve been known to lie down on the ground or
step up on a bench to get just the right angle,” They smiled and
laughed. I said, “Hold it right there! Perfect!” But the main
button wouldn’t push down after repeated attempts — it seemed
stuck.
Kim didn’t move. She stared straight ahead, smiling through clenched
teeth, which gave her a ventriloquist/dummy look: “I wonder what’s
wrong — BOYS, SIT STILL!?” The camera jammed. Kim was distraught,
saying that she has the worst luck with cameras! “So do I,”
I mumbled. But she went ahead and rattled off the list of negatives —
no pun intended — saying she is either out of film, the batteries
are dead, or she forgets to even bring the camera along.”
That is EXACTLY what happens to me (once I even dropped one on concrete).
Kim said she had just taken photos that very morning, and couldn’t
understand why it wouldn’t work since 14 exposures were remaining.
I offered later that day to retake them, but after buying new film, the
baby sitter took them.
But getting back to Russell’s question, I said to him: “I’m
going to save the cards. I plan to put them in my nightstand drawer with
the others.”
He looked dubious. “Why?” I said, “Because one day when
I’m old and gray, and all alone, I’ll enjoy looking back through
them.”
He said, “Alone?! Where am I going to be?” For once in my
life I was speechless. He had a good point. Finally I came to my senses
and hugged him, saying, “Oh honey! You know what I mean. You’ll
either be playing golf or taking a nap inside while I sit on a rocker
on the porch at the old folks’ home. I didn’t mean ‘alone/alone.’
Really.”
He shrugged and walked away slowly.
I don’t know what it is about cards that makes me so emotional.
That isn’t in my general make-up; but I like to keep them close
by. Even my daughters don’t save their cards permanently. Oh sure,
they check them carefully for gifts of money before they toss them out,
but they are good as gone once the note is read.
Even so, for me, cards reinforce my optimistic belief of having good friends
and family to support you through the bad times and to cheer you during
the good times. It’s a written reminder — a souvenir, if you
will.
And no, it doesn’t have to be a Hallmark card. Some of my favorites
are two for a dollar. I’m not embarrassed to tell you that’s
about all I send out these days.
I just bought six Valentine cards and don’t tell Russell, but one
is for him! I wonder if he’ll save that one after I pointed out
the benefit of saving cards and looking through them when he’s old
and gray, and all alone.
Nah — ’cause he’ll have me there to hound him in person;
so I guess he’d say “what’s the point?”