Poke

Ah - it has started. You know how it goes, those wretched Christmas cards that come written in artificial ink from people who really don't care about you, demonstrated either actively in words and deeds or passively in silence and absence but have some strange need to one-up by sending a card with nothing but a signature under the preprinted greeting or something like "best wishes". The only words spoken for the year "best wishes". Whew. Some of them are asking for money, and, oh by the way, "happy holiday". Others are from an individual, checking off the list.

I got one from Rosalynn and Jimmy Carter. It's nice they thought of me.

So far I've gotten both kinds.

Don't get me wrong, this is different from those that are the careful reflection after a busy year or a "where did the time go" year where the friend writes "I wish we got to talk to each other" or something like that. Those are the real ones, they are ones looking for the promised peace on earth. The others are a way of giving reason for asking for money or satisfying inner looking, both stimulate the Walmart and Post Office economies.

I suppose all of that needs to be done. Tis the season.