Here we are, a fortnight before Christmas Day. ‘Tis the season to send out cards. Friends and family have been messaging to confirm address details for me, and for other members of my family. They have been messaging via WhatsApp, which is probably how I will communicate my seasonal greetings to them. I have already swapped a few such emails with other friends.

This might be another year when I do not send out cards. I reflected on this back in 2020, in this piece about Air Mail Letters, and its follow-up in 2021.

I still receive cards at this time of year, though the numbers are steadily diminishing. I keep most of our Christmas cards for a year or two. Those that contain significant messages will be kept for longer, indefinitely in some cases. In general I have kept the last known card from any friend or family member who has died. Those annual messages from aunts and uncles that were the same for decades: I have kept a few. I have not acquired enough new friends or family members who are in the habit of sending out cards of any kind (birthday, Christmas, St Patrick’s Day, whatever) to make up for the cards that no longer arrive, from people who are no longer with us.

Until 10 or 15 years ago, many of the messages from friends said pretty much the same thing, year after year: “We really must meet up in 1999 [… 2000 … 2001…]”. We have all given up on this practice. I am more likely to get cards from people I have seen over the last 12 months than from people I have not met up with for 10 years or more.

There is one specific message that comes to mind at this time of year, from a Christmas card I received in 1996, from a friend who sent them for at least 20 years without a break. It said, “Wishing you all the best for 1997. It can’t be any worse than 1996!” She was wrong. 1997 was much worse for her and for me. Her father died in March. My mother died in April. In case you’re tempted to follow her example, and send out cards that say, “All the best for 2024! It can’t be worse than 2023!”, think again. Things can always get worse.

When I drafted this piece, it ended with that last sentence, which is not exactly festive. Earlier today, just before finalizing and posting these words, I received my first Christmas card from New Zealand for a few years. It’s from an old schoolfriend who lives in Christchurch and has been referred to many times on this site. He sent me the aerogramme that was referred to in that follow-up post about Air Mail Letters. We met up a few times during the summer when he was visiting Europe. He finally caught up with me playing live music in public, at the Dublin Castle in September. His message is a much happier one to end on: “Thanks for a great 2023! Let’s keep the music flowing in 2024!”

That’s more like it.