When was the last time you wrote and sent a Christmas card? No, not those electronic ones you choose from a card service or those you pass on as text messages, but a real, honest-to-goodness card that you get from a bookstore, write on, put in and address an envelope, then go off to the local post office to get a stamp and drop in the mail box.
Those of us from the neanderthal age recall with fondness the days of yore when the arrival of the mailman was a big deal, especially at Christmastime when you eagerly wait to find out who would send you a card, and how nice – or boring – it was. Recently over lunch, some of us got to reminiscing about those days when the post office was a very important place, and the mailman a guy you wanted to see a lot of. That triggered a serious bout of nostalgia, so please, indulge me.
When I was a kid, come the first week of December my mother would sit down with me to help me get my cards ready, to be sent out early enough so they would reach the recipients in time for Christmas (often though, the cards arrived after Christmas, but I guess what’s important is that they arrived). I prepared a card list, much like a gift list, which was pretty long, considering the number of aunts and uncles, cousins, friends and penpals (how many of you even know what penpals are?) who lived overseas (resident relations didn’t need to get a card, since we would see each other anyway).
For the longest time, every Christmas I sent a card to an aunt who had entered a cloistered convent in Quebec before I was born; I didn’t even really know where Quebec was, and I didn’t even know what she looked like, but I diligently wrote her a card each year. I was never sure if the cards got to her or not because she never replied, but I guess they did, because one fine day many, many years later I received a letter from her, telling me she had left the convent (she later told me it was because she felt the order had become too liberal!) and would I want to come stay with her. I’d like to think my cards cheered up the cold stone convent for her.
I must admit I haven’t written a card for quite a few years now, an email or phone (or Skype) greeting being a lot more convenient and efficient. But perhaps this year I’ll go to the bookstore and choose a card, and send it to my un-cloistered aunt, who now lives in Vancouver.
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ON THE COVER. Val Rodriguez, STAR chief photographer, has been going around the metropolis – and even farther afield – to record images of this happy season. He chanced upon the Festival of Lights parade at the Mall of Asia grounds, which happens every Saturday at 5:30 p.m. until Dec. 21, with the grand parade on Christmas Day.
There are several floats, each with dancers and performers in costume, complete with LED lights, prancing to the tunes of familiar carols. It’s a fun way to spend a Saturday with the family, and let the child in each one of us thrill to the wonder of this festive time.