The Camera Doesn't Lie

I finally finished taking down my Christmas decorations this week. It doesn't take more than about 15 minutes to get this done when you've decorated 700 square feet. I know it seems like I left them up longer than most people but as I've mentioned, I'm a purist and so I leave my decorations up until the Epiphany. As someone who grew up celebrating Mardi Gras, ending Christmas on the 12th Night gives way to another uber-festive season. I dig the overlap.

One of my favorite elements of Christmas is receiving Christmas cards. It's one of those basic, simple traditions that has withstood the wave of convenience and technology. I love all of it...opening my mailbox and seeing those envelopes that are indicative of Christmas card cargo. You know the ones I mean...they are the only ones in the bunch that don't have a plastic window and bar codes and industrial type. These envelopes are handwritten, often in red or green ink, and sometimes even have Christmas postage stamps to boot. I love to try and guess the sender by looking at the handwriting. There's something about the old fashioned Christmas card that gives Christmas the, you guessed it, cozy feel that I love. There's an endearing element about the primitive nature of sending Christmas cards.

During the course of the Season, opening my Christmas cards, reading them, displaying them, and then taking them down (I save my Christmas cards from year to year), I was suddenly alerted to a pattern I hadn't noticed before. The number of photo cards heavily outnumbered the collection of traditional, lovely, pre-printed cards. Upon further inspection, these numbers gave way to another curious statistic...single people send the latter form. Perhaps this realization isn't all that novel; but for me, looking at my collection of cards, I realized how many of my friends have moved to the photo column. Each year, there seems to be a new member.

By no means am I advocating that this NOT be the case. I, for one, would never be caught dead sending a photo card of just myself. Or worse, myself and my dog. I suppose this is a matter of taste and so I don't mean to offend, but the visual of someone opening a Christmas card and seeing a 4x6 of me on the Staten Island Ferry with Lady Liberty in the backround just isn't really my speed.

These photo cards from my friends chronicle all sorts of milestones and emotions. Wedding and honeymoon photos, first Christmas as a married couple image, baby's first Christmas, Joan Walsh Anglund children dressed in smocked garb. I adore getting all of these, which is why I display them and then bundle them up and archive them. I love that my friends opt for these types of cards because it makes me feel like I am in the loop.

I'm not sure that this statistical revelation says anything monumental, but as I've mentioned, my gradual progression into minority status of single hood has made for some interesting observations; most notably, a picture says at LEAST TWO words: NOT SINGLE.