Lynna Clark

Do you send greeting cards? I do. I guess because I love to get them. I remember mama saying one time that she and daddy nearly got kicked out of the Hallmark store that used to be near Marshalls. They tucked themselves over in the Maxine section and read funny stuff until they were laughing outloud. We could always count on them to find the best humor available. Like a lovely card with a photo of clouds and sunshine on the front. The sentiment said, “I wish you were Jesus.” Knowing my parents I couldn’t imagine such a sappy greeting on my birthday. The inside cleared it up by adding, “Then today would be Christmas.” Yep. Just my speed. David’s mother Nina on the other hand, always bought the sappy stuff and personally underlined the important parts. Which was everything. And even though she lived across the road from us, she would put a stamp on the envelope and send it with her outgoing mail. On my birthday one year she tucked a twenty inside with a note in her distinctive left handed script. “Go get that paint you like so you can freshen up the looks of that end table you’ve been wanting to refinish.” She knew me well and tried to think of unique gifts to make me feel loved. I used that twenty to buy a gallon of Robin’s Egg Blue paint at Lowe’s. Paint costs about twice that much now; so that tells you how long ago it’s been. Now every other piece of furniture in the house is Robin’s Egg Blue. But that’s okay. Designers have been advising for years to pick an inspiration piece and run with it. I’ve decided that’s what happened. But don’t worry. I still have a dab left in case something comes up.

So anyway, I still send greeting cards. While the savvy amongst us send texts or messages online, I’m still using paper and ink. The last time I sent a card to a granddaughter I wondered. Can she read this? It IS in cursive. Will she even get it? Since she lives in an apartment in a large city, does she even check the mail? Good thing I planned ahead. It took about four grocery trips for my beloved to remember to get stamps at the Food Lion. I was kinda proud when I remembered to tell him to pick some up. He felt rather accomplished when he remembered to do so. As I pondered my granddaughter’s circumstances or status as the youngsters say, I felt like a Navaho code talker. Actual ink on paper written in cursive and mailed to an address by way of a stamp seems a little antiquated. At least I knew enough not to put money in there. Because who in their right mind would want to buy a can of paint and color everything in the house Robin’s Egg Blue? Hopefully the espresso mugs she picked out on Amazon will land on her doorstep and make her smile. The only problem is that they will be there a week early. I’m so used to regular mail that I forgot to allow for the efficiency of Amazon. And we wonder why Amazon is taking over the world.

Oh well. At least the greeting inside the box will not be in cursive. I think she will love it.