Friday, December 27, 2013

IN PERPETUUM

At this time every year I have the same dilemma. Should I send a Christmas card to the Brazilian couple I met in 1999? With three friends, I was then on a cruise in Chile, from Puerto Mont south through the Chilean fjords to the San Rafael Glacier. The scenery was glorious. But the crew on the Scorpios, a Chilean cruise line, spoke only Spanish - the foreign quality of the cruise was part of its charm -  and without Jose and Lisette, who spoke Spanish and English and were fortunately assigned to our table, we would have been in the dark at every meal. But they translated the Spanish menu into English for us, and our choices back into Spanish for the waiter. We all became friends. But as most cruise friendships go, I expected this one to fade into acquaintance once the cruise was over. But that next Christmas, I received a Christmas card from Lisette. How was I? Jose had been to a fabric fair in Frankfort. They had a daughter in Fort Lauderdale and visited her occasionally. She hoped she would see me again. We had had such a good time, hadn't we? Like me, my friends received similar messages from her. We were all surprised. And pleased.

As I approach Christmas each year, I fret over my Christmas card design. For many years, I sent the traditional card, usually purchased at a museum, ice skaters on a lake, a Wegman dog holding a candy cane, that sort of thing. But for the last 10 years or so, I've insisted my card be made of one of my photographs, from some place exotic I've visited in the world, some vista or object reminiscent of Christmas. A triangular cut-out in a Mayan temple complex, a doorway in China, a bell in Thailand, lighted houses here on 34th Street in Hampden. I'm sure part of this insistence is rooted in  my egotism, making people aware that I've been to this location, and showing off my abilities at photographic composition. I'll own up to that. But I also like to think the receiver will feel the card is special, that I took the time to make a card of my photograph, a kind of unique gift to them, a card like no other.

 I usually send these cards willy-nilly, to everyone in my address book, friends near and far and without regard to their ethnic or religious persuasion (although the cards have  recently always said "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas"). And true to my Type A personality, I keep a list of those to whom I send my cards, and I admit to a similar list of those who send cards to me. So as I approach the holidays, I wonder each year about those I haven't heard from, especially those far away. Had they moved and I'd addressed the card to the wrong location? Or worse, had they died?

In an attempt to answer this question, I once called a girlfriend I'd known since childhood, a widow now living in Florida, someone with whom I exchanged cards each year but whom I hadn't seen since 1997 when I visited her on my way to Key West and from whom I hadn't received a card that year. Was she still alive, I wondered? Yes, she was. But very cool on the phone. I could tell she wanted to end our conversation almost as soon as she realized who I was. Had something I'd said in my previous year's events letter offended her? She'd always known I was gay. Had she gotten serious religion in her elder years and decided I was sinful? I never knew. But I never heard from her again either. Sad. I'd known her since we were in grade school, when she had a pet alligator she kept in her bathtub. How could someone so grounded in the unusual decide late in her life that I was too unusual to be acceptable? And this year, I received no card from another friend I've known for close to 50 years. We even used to exchange gifts. But this year not even a card. Have I offended him? Or have we just drifted so far apart that he no longer considers us friends? I'll never know. 

I've made some efforts this past year to simplify my life. I almost didn't send cards at all. But I found a lot of what might be called leftovers in my card drawer, extra cards not sent from many years before. So I rationed them out to friends I really care about, leaving out my Jewish friends who'd never sent me cards in the past, and some of those so far away I haven't seen them in many years. I pondered over the address for Lisette and Jose, and decided to skip them this year. But yesterday, her annual card came. Bless her heart.

The thing is this. If I leave someone off my card list this year, and I receive a card from them, like I did from Lisette, I'll feel it necessary to send them a card next year. But not having heard from me this year, next year these people will cut me from their own list. And then the next year, I'll cut them, but since they heard from me the year before, they'll add me back again. And so it goes. In perpetuum. 

Stay tuned.


 

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