The Slice: Happiness is in the cards

I have nothing against Christmas cards.

My wife and I don’t send many. But I look at the ones that arrive, and we place them in a spot where the various snowflakes, partridges and mangers can be seen.

The whole thing seems a bit perfunctory, of course. Still, there’s a sweetness about the tradition that can’t be dismissed.

And Spokane is a long way from some of the senders’ homes, so it’s nice to hear from them. It’s not like we’re going to see them all that often.

In addition, the snapshots and sentiments are welcome.

But I didn’t really get into Christmas cards this year until I went over to my mother’s place last weekend.

Thumbing through the stack of cards she has received, I found myself asking “Who is this?” or “Is her husband still alive?” or “Didn’t they have a daughter Johnny’s age?”

Like giving a sled a nudge at the top of a hill, the answers led to stories.

One woman whose name I didn’t recognize right away still lives in my late father’s little hometown in upstate New York. She has a daughter in Wyoming who wants her to move out West. But the woman has dug in her heels.

Then there was one from the couple who used to live next door to my parents back in Vermont. “Remember those cats of theirs that always seemed interested in whatever Dad was doing?”

And so on.

Because a few of the senders are people I knew when I was a little kid, I found myself thinking about Christmases long ago and far away. There were some happy ones.

That brief reverie felt like a little gift. For that, I owe my thanks to those who mailed cards to my mom.

Maybe I’ll send a few more of my own next year.

Today’s Slice question: Remember 10 years ago and Y2K paranoia?