getting carded

No one would call me a traditionalist. At least, no one who knows me.

Whenever I encounter anything supported by the argument "we have always done it is this way," my response is exactly the same as a three-year old -- why?

The one big exception in my life is greeting cards. I like receiving them almost as much as I like sending them. Certainly, it is possible to send passable greetings by telephone, e-mail, or, if you are really desperate in abbreviating your relationships, Facebook. All of those are better than nothing.

But greeting cards are not merely traditional. They represent a bit of you and your time. The process of picking out just the right card to match the recipient, writing a piece of wisdom or wit in longhand with a fountain pen, and then taking that little piece of you to the post office to be delivered to your friend, builds and enhances our relationships.

At least, that is true for me. You may have a different ritual to massage your relationships.

Just before I left Mexico on this trip north, I received an early birthday card from my friend Hilary in northern England. I say "early" because we are still 5 days out from my birthday.

That is another reason why greeting cards are so important in relationships. To get the card to me in a timely fashion, Hilary thought of my January birthday in the early days of November. I ended up getting two remembrances from her. The first when she chose and mailed the card, the second when it arrived in San Patricio Melaque on 17 December and I contacted her to thank her. (We will now eke out a third with this essay.)

The card made me laugh. Where but from England would I be feted with:

Some will say you're looking great,
You haven't changed a bit,
But this one's simply honest ...
You doddery OLD GIT!  

Greeting cards are one of the few things I buy in The States while I am here. At least, greeting cards for my English-speaking friends. Greeting cards for Spanish-speakers are readily available in our area. And my friend Louise Lambiotte sells creatively-crafted cards in Barra de Navidad (getting carded).

That means no matter where my friends live, no matter what language they speak, I can keep my sole thread to tradition alive.

I suspect that when I get home next Saturday, my postal box will be bursting with birthday cards. Or, I will be receiving birthday cards for months that were meant to burst my box months earlier.

Either way, the tradition lives.