Bring on the Christmas letters

“Jasmin, you may help if you’d like,” I said to my 8-year-old niece, hovering over us.

My husband Gary and I had just sorted through a month’s worth of mail awaiting our return from a road trip, which had started in California and circled through Colorado, Texas, Arizona and back. I was anxious to start reading the stack of Christmas greetings, even if it was Jan. 8 and 70 degrees. While being snowbirds for a couple of months during that winter of 2003/2004, we were staying with Gary’s sister’s family in Gilroy, Calif., where his mother also lives.

We walked outside to the backyard and sat around a glass patio table, where Jasmin used a letter opener on all 60-plus envelopes, pulling out the contents for a quick peek as she went along. An assembly line formed with Jasmin on my left. When finished with a card, I passed it to Gary on my right who, in turn, passed to his mother. Over an hour and a half later we read the last one!

During the previous years in Slana, we received and enjoyed a few cards each mail delivery day, which was Monday, Wednesday and Friday. In California, reading so many holiday greetings in one sitting was information overload, but still greatly enjoyable. There were cards with only names signed, cards filled with handwriting, many typed form letters, single photos and pages of photos. We learned of weddings, graduations, funerals, illnesses, trips and even a 100-year birthday party!

Yet, it seems some people greatly dislike receiving the Christmas form letter, and I’ve heard them referred to as a brag sheet. I’ve only heard Ray Stevens sing “Xerox Xmas Letter” over the radio once, but still remember what a warped point of view he had, emphasizing the bad. Sure, accomplishments are written about, but the letters we receive include everyday life, as well as disappointments and loss.

It was as a young girl growing up in Glennallen that I became aware of what my mother called “the Christmas letter.” She wrote one each year, had it typed and printed, and then spent hours writing personal notes on each before addressing the envelopes and taking them to the post office. Many names on her list were familiar to me even though I had never met them, and many greetings were sent to relatives we only saw every five years.

Gary and I had been married a year when I started continuing with my version of “the Christmas letter.” Through the years, my attitude has always been that it’s better than nothing. We have moved so many times, making our Christmas card list longer than most. Time didn’t allow a personal letter to everyone, especially when our children were little. Through the years there have been many things to write about: births of children, moves, new jobs, deaths — “life,” you could call it. One year, the majority of my letter was about the death of our 14-month-old daughter. With a broken heart, I could think of little else to write about.

For a while, it seemed Christmas letters had such a bad reputation I considered dropping ours. But after receiving enough comments from people who enjoyed them, I didn’t. Besides, I love to receive and read them myself. Sure, there have been some letters that were too long-winded or talked about people unknown to me, but I just take what I want and leave the rest. We really enjoy the photos, too. The children we first saw as babies now have families of their own. Phone conversations are great and email also, but I treasure Christmas snail mail correspondence.

After my father passed away in 2008, my siblings and I had the huge job of taking care of our parents’ belongings. During the sorting and organizing, I gathered into one spot almost 40 years of Mom’s leftover Christmas letters and photos. Then I bought three-ring-binders and plastic page protectors and assembled a Christmas letter album for each of her four children and 15 grandchildren, filling in with copies here and there when I came up short. Now we all treasure these family history albums written by Mom and I imagine future generations will, too.

With the calendar turned to December, holiday greetings are once again beginning to arrive in our mailbox — six days a week since we moved back to Palmer. I certainly enjoy catching up with family and friends by way of yearly form Christmas letters, and it’s nice to read a few every day rather than 60 at once. I say bring them on, but first you’ll have to excuse me. I have a letter of my own to write.

Maraley McMichael is a longtime Mat-Su Valley writer and resident.