Easy is a soulless adjective. It really is. Lovely is lovely. Nasty is nasty. Dreamy is dreamy. Scary is scary. But easy has no soul. It doesn’t describe the thing you are doing, only if you can do it without much pain or effort. And conventional wisdom tells me that whatever I’ve accomplished that cost me next to nothing is not much of an accomplishment.
I miss those days. They were never mine as an adult, only as a kid. I concede maybe that’s why the Christmas cards of my childhood seem magical, because they were from my childhood. But you can’t convince me that’s why they were more personal. That equation won’t work. They weren’t even my cards; they were sent to my parents.
I think – and I know I am not the first person to think this – that ease has replaced personal effort and involvement. The very innovations that have allowed us to stay in touch while expending less energy and time have actually made it easy to be personally disconnected – all within the very act of connecting. Sounds convoluted, but I think you know what I mean.
Some future Christmas, maybe next, I will attempt to send cards that open and close, that bear my personal script, that include a note that is personal and meaningful, a photo that is actually a photo and not a throw-away card, and I will address them myself. I probably won’t be able to lick the stamp – do they make those anymore? – but I can get cards where you have to lick the envelopes. I know they still make those. My DNA will be all over those cards. It won’t be easy, but by golly it will be personal.
Somebody remind me of this worthy goal sometime in late summer, wouldja? If I put it off until November, the ease of my technologically-advanced life will preclude any hope of actually pulling it off. . .