Mom kept a card for every occasion.
The box I brought over from the storage unit today held Mom’s collection of store-bought greeting cards.
I kept about 25, plus 40 postcards. The rest I gave to Goodwill.
The origami penguins above are my favorite. The card is blank inside. It would be appropriate for a range of milestones:
Birthday: “Leap into the sea of 70!”
Baby: “What’s this we hear about a new waddler on your floe?”
Even Condolence: “Nothing is ever black or white, especially at a time of loss.”
But other cards in Mom’s supply were never going to move.
The most intriguing was a set of three, printed in 1969.
On the back, they’re identified as Sensitivity Greeting Cards. The internal message of each was written by the same duo, both physicians. They were composing earnest greeting-card messages just a couple years after the Summer of Love. They sound like it.
The message in this one reads, “If we can’t talk, we can’t grow.”
This one reads, “I wanted to say yes.”
This one is downright plaintive. “I’m beginning to try again. I need your help.”
Could the physicians’ target market be very substantial? Could it be much larger than just Mom?
Even she, a committed Unitarian, never found just the right New Ager to send one to. The cards stayed in her file for 37 years – the rest of her life.
We’ll end with this one.
Its message: “Go ahead. Leave. We’ll be fine.”
I’ll bet Mom bought it just to keep running into these babies while rifling through her file for a birthday card.
Now they’re in my card file … pretty much for the same reason.