50 Million Cards On The Wall

I was at Wal-Mart recently, trolling the greeting card aisles for a couple of cards that would be both appropriate to the occasion and have the rare distinction of not costing more than the gifts they were intended to accompany.

I mean, in a world where at least ten percent of the cards open up to actual music (I got one of those once ... it plays the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean), and some of those are so big they could double as pup tents and cost in excess of fifteen dollars, one is sorely tempted to simply hand the gift to its fortunate recipient and say, "This is for you. From me. I do so hope you like it."

In my case on this particular day, both gift-giving, card-buying occasions involved the number 50. One was for a couple in our church who celebrated 50 years of marriage on August 8th (gift: two-color reed-diffused air freshener in vanilla cinnamon). The other was for a friend turning 50 on August 16th (gift: wrinkle cream by Oil of Old Age).

This ground-breaking information has led to a whole new category of greeting cards.

Just kidding about that last one. I haven't bought my friend a present yet.

I did briefly consider the card that, on the front, bore the message: Don't worry about the past because you can't change it. On the inside it elaborated: Don't worry about the present either, because I didn't get you one.

(Now, that's my kind of sentiment ... but I didn't pick that one because I do intend to buy a present for my friend. Probably a Waffle House gift card. Unless you know my friend and me and something of our antics, that won't resonate with you. So be it. Suffice it to say, they know us down at the Waffle House on Broad River Road.)

At any rate, my task should have been less challenging than toppling from a log; right?

Not so much.

Aside from the fact that, when it comes to cards, I tend to be cheap (normally I buy them for 50 cents apiece at Dollar General but on this day -- foolishly, as it turned out -- I wanted to make just the one stop at Wal-Mart), I am limited by other sensibilities not related to economy.

Namely, when it comes to greeting cards (and basically everything else), although I love a good guffaw as much as the next person, I don't do bathroom humor, booty-call humor, or booze humor. Basically because, to me, none of those things are remotely funny.

But that rules out approximately 50 percent of the cards!

How fitting.

So I'm looking around, slowly realizing how narrow my choices actually are, when I see them: an entire section of "back to school" cards.

Back To School cards? Yes.

There were cards for starting day care, starting kindergarten, starting elementary school, starting middle school, starting high school, starting college. All starting at ninety-nine cents. All meant to "encourage" kids.

A visit to the Hallmark web site reveals that there has been a study done which proves once and for all that kids crave the encouragement of their moms (or significant other parental units).

I hope they didn't spend a lot of money on that study. For a mere 50 dollars, I could have told them that much about kids, and more. Cash, please.

But this ground-breaking information has led to a whole new category of greeting cards ... and Hallmark's helpful suggestions for how to use them (just in case the card-buying public cannot figure that out for themselves).

For example, parents are encouraged to Hide a card under a pillow just to say 'you're cool' or 'you're the best kid.'

Or to Tuck a card in a lunchbox or backpack to ease back-to-school butterflies.

Or to Slip a card under a bedroom door the morning of an important test, or have one ready after school that says 'I knew you could do it.'

Our being there in the flesh seemed to be what our children actually wanted.

Or to Say how proud you are after the big game or recital in a card that can be kept for years on end.

Or to Fill your college kid's mailbox with cards and love from home.

(In the case of the college kid, don't forget to include a 50-dollar bill or you're wasting your time. They won't cherish an empty card. Count on it.)

Even nestled as they were among thousands of cards available for every purpose from a deceased pet to a new salt shaker to an ingrown toenail, the staggering plethora of Back To School cards and Kid Encouragement cards set me reminiscing.

Each year in late August during my golden rule days, my parents demonstrated their support by buying me a pair of school shoes, a few new outfits from K-Mart, two or three notebooks, pencils, erasers, a ruler, a bottle of glue, a pack of looseleaf paper (that I was obliged to share with my sister), and similar supplies.

The only thing I wanted slipped under my pillow was that tooth-fairy money.

My parents never told me I was cool, or that I was the best kid. They provided for me, which was the crucial tip-off that they had a decent opinion of me. The onus was on me to excel, whether or not I thought it (or I) was "cool" or "the best."

(Which, incidentally, I didn't. Thank God for that. There's nothing worse than a snot-nosed kid who thinks he's cool. As parents, I and the father of our four children forbade that kind of attitude at our house. We taught our children to obey the rules, show respect for themselves and others, be on time, keep their noses clean, pay attention, do their schoolwork, get involved in sports, and determine every day to serve both God and their fellow man. At the earliest possible moment, they were expected to get a job.)

When I went back to school each year I was put on the bus with my meager supplies and a bologna sandwich that may or may not have been sequestered within a nifty brown paper sack. I distinctly remember a time when we had no paper sacks at home, and my humble sandwich got wrapped in a scrap of aluminum foil. The other kids referred to me as "Tin Foil Lunch" for the rest of the year.

Not exactly the image I was going for.

I had more back-to-school butterflies than Carter's had liver pills, but I never got a card for it and I'm fairly certain that if I had, it would not have cleared my tummy of flighty lepidopterae. I was the perennial new girl; card or no card, you still had to face the giants alone. I did sometimes get a hug as I was nudged toward the dreaded death-black rubber tread of the bus steps ... and on one occasion, I remember being so upset and stomach-achey on the first day of school that my mom let me go back home. YESSSSSSSS!

I didn't have any big games or recitals, but if I had, it would have been understood at my house that I was expected to do my best even if nobody praised me (which, incidentally, when I succeeded at something, they did). My children participated both in big games (come to think of it, to us EVERY game was big) and recitals, but I am hard pressed to remember a single time I sent one of them a greeting card before, during, or after said event.

(What I did was, in every case, unless providentially hindered, I sat on the sidelines and prayed and clapped and cheered. As did their father. Strangely, our being there in the flesh seemed to be what our children actually wanted. In my memory no child of mine has ever pulled a long face because they were denied a greeting card.)

Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

On the morning of a big test, the floor on the inside of my bedroom door was invariably vacant. My gut feeling was that I'd better have studied hard and prepared myself to get a good grade, or I was going to be called on the carpet for it. No smarmy store-bought sentiments were applied to the situation. Good grades were a given at my house; you got them or you faced the consequences. The idea was realizing your potential and, additionally, not shirking your duty. It was the lived-out reality of the concept that right is its own reward. It was the certainty that you weren't going to be mollycoddled into performing your reasonable service.

(My husband was reared the same way. I promise you he's none the worse for it, and neither am I, and neither are our children. In fact, we all benefitted tremendously from the no-nonsense approach to character-driven, goal-oriented, non-negotiable personal responsibility and its usual outcome: achievement.)

Don't get me wrong; I'm not against sending greeting cards. I do it all the time. But whatever happened to looking into a person's eyes and TELLING them that you love them, or that you are praying for them, or that everything will work out fine, or that even if it doesn't, it won't be the end of the world?  Whatever happened to a pat on the back, a hug, a sincere hand-holding, a wink and a smile?

These days if you're not getting a text message it's a phone message and if you're not getting a phone call it's an email and if you're not getting an email you pretty much feel forgotten.

Further perusal of Hallmark's web site revealed that, if you feel the urge to send a greeting card but lack the time to do it yourself, the company will sign, stamp, and send the card for you. For all I know, they'll pick it out too. Just put in your credit card number and it's all taken care of with a click of the mouse. Call me crazy (many have), but doesn't it defeat the purpose of sending a card in the first place when you engage the services of a corporate entity to sign and mail it? I'm not feeling the love.

And then there are e-cards ... a whole new domain in manufactured greetings. I actually like these and use them a good bit. The animation is fun and there's no denying it is convenient and cost-effective. People enjoy receiving them.

But recently I got an email from an e-card outfit touting their Spanish-language cards and insisting that I wanted to send one of them! A Spanish-language card, that is.

Only problem is ... No. I. Do. Not.

I speak English. I do not speak Spanish. Why would I? I am an American and as such, English is my mother tongue. English is the language of our country. I daresay if I lived in a country where Spanish is the primary language, I would have to learn it or else make some very costly mistakes until I did. So that's what the Spanish-speaking people in America should do: LEARN TO SPEAK ENGLISH.

Or else, leave. And don't let the door hit you on the way out.

And then there's Exhale, the outfit that specializes in "post-abortion" services, to include treacly e-cards.

There are six choices, featuring pictures of sunsets and flowers and cut-out hearts and all manner of sweetness and light, with messages such as "Healing is possible. May you find peace after your abortion."

God help us. May we find peace after visiting the greeting card aisle, virtual or otherwise.

Comments

[Mari]

I was raised the same way as you were and I'm ok too! Great post!

[kev]

Kid Encouragement cards? Post Abortion cards?? Good grief. It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world.

[Jennifer]

@ Mari ... I knew you were good people! It shows. Thanks for the compliment!

@ Kev ... I know; right? The madness burgeons and threatens to consume us.

[Michael J. Kannengieser]

Hi Jennifer,
You've pretty much said everything about cards I would have said. I did not realize they had "Back to School" cards. Right now, my son ten year old is playing "bongos" on a Pringles can while sitting in a lounge chair he dragged into the den from outside (because we are white trash), and and my fourteen year old daughter has taken over the master bedroom to watch "her show." I think what I want to give my kids is a "Back to School Warrant"</> straight from Family Court.

By the way, my wife somehow manages to forget to buy cards and leaves the task to me when I am on the way home from work. I think I'd rather chew on aluminum foil than buy cards. I can never find one good enough and my wife always complains about what I pick out.

Funny article. I need to stop by here more often. -Michael.

[Jennifer]

@ Michael ... so great to hear from you! Sounds like a bunch of folks loving life at your abode. Buy pretty-picture cards by the boxful ... blank on the inside ... and write your own sentiment! You can't go wrong. Hope your writing is going well for you! I miss the old days.

[Darryl]

I have no problem with the existence of back to school cards. I think some parents and other relatives (I'm a great as an uncle) can find a use for them and others need them not at all. Kind of like some people are great face-to-face, some like email, some like snail-mail cards. Different strokes for different folks.

I have to belive that a woman who has searched her soul and arrived at the difficult decsion of an abortion deserves some caring attention.

I do whole heartedly agree with you on the point that immigrants need to learn our national language. If I immigrated to Spain or France, I sure would expect to learn to communicate with the citizens.

Cheers

+ + + +

EDITOR'S NOTE: This comment has been edited to redact one instance of mild profanity, which we do not allow on IHATH.

As you were.

[Jennifer]

@ Darryl ... thanks for stopping by, and for your thoughtful comments.

As I alluded to in the post, I give and receive many greeting cards ... some "just because" and not always for a special occasion. I am not against the giving of greeting cards. I don't blame the greeting card companies for capitalizing on the generally accepted feeling that children (the ones that are allowed to live, that is), should be worshipped by their parents. I simply don't agree with it.

Children benefit more from the kind of love that sets boundaries, metes out firm but loving discipline when necessary, and does not automatically reward behavior that is supposed to be standard.

That doesn't mean children should not be told early and often, and in as many ways possible, that they are loved, wanted, and important. Certainly they need encouragement. Everyone does. I encourage my four, grown though they be, at every opportunity. Sometimes I even do it with a greeting card.

And although I agree with you that a woman who has paid for and endured the murder of her own child needs to do some soul-searching, I think that the application of truth before the child is killed would be more productive than a smarmy e-card after the fact. What we are dealing with is not a "difficult decision" ... what we are dealing with is the death of a human being who has zero choices.

And why is it that people seem much more willing to focus on the woman who made the decision that led to the death of an innocent child, and on her suffering, rather than on the suffering of the child itself, who was burned with chemicals and/or dismembered in order to end its inconvenient life, with no thought to its feelings or to the fear and pain it surely experienced?

This will baffle me as long as I live.

I would much rather women make smarter choices in the first place -- i.e., the choice not to have sex with men to whom they are not married and with whom they do not wish to have children -- and NOT murder their own children, and when they have those children, rear them in such a way that sending a greeting card for being a "cool" kid just isn't necessary.

But that's just me. I realize it's not a popular viewpoint. More's the pity.

[Audrey]

Great post! Great comments too! I agree...how do we give so much regard to victimizers in this country rather than to the actual victims? This I do not understand.

[rosezilla]

A card to encourage a child going to daycare for the first time? So a greeting card tucked in the diaper bag of a 6-week old is going to make them feel less abandoned? Hmmm... and greeting cards to "encourage" someone who has had an abortion turns my stomach. How is that going to help anything? The kind of shame, grief and horror they are likely to be feeling when they realize what they did is not going to be touched by a greeting card. I am not much on greeting cards anyway for the most part - a mass-produced heartfelt personalized sentiment - um, okay. My kids always preferred me and their dad, in the flesh; and guidance on how to behave did them more good than false flattery based on their mere existence. I'll never forget my own mother telling my sister, after punishment for something, "I love you, but one day I'll have to stand before God and justify the way I raised you, and I'm not going to tell Him I stood by and let you get away with (whatever it was)."

[Jennifer]

@ Audrey ... Exactly! Nor do I.

@ Tracie ... Slam dunk, chickie! I love what your mother said. Now, that's the TRUTH spoken in love. Truth to power, as it were.

[Skunkfeathers]

I don't do cards, generally. But one year, when things were generally progressive all around (aka, really bad), I took advantage of a sentiment a friend gave me on a business card; I enlarged it and sent it out as my holiday greeting:

Season's Greetings!
Money's short
Times are hard
Here's your ******* Christmas card

I may dig it out and send it to the White House's snitch email addy this holiday season ;-)

[Jennifer]

@ SF ... Me likey! Too bad they took the snitch email down! Just send it to WhiteHouse dot gov. They'll get your meaning!