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Send a Card

I didn’t receive an eCard on my birthday. There were no special effect best wishes gyrating on my screen—no purple and yellow butterflies flitting through a psychedelic garden and landing on a moss draped boulder in the middle of a silver iridescent river with Happy Birthday flashing through the ripples.
ECards are animated, cartoon versions of the sappiest cards you can buy, like the cheap ones with unending, rhyming verses at the dollar store. Watching an eCard might cause a seizure and suffering through the animations—two dozen roses that appear one at a time in a vase, pink frogs hopping across five thousand lily pads, chubby cherubs playing Happy Birthday on harps—can cause a nervous breakdown. The longer the eCard, the closer the little white arrow on my screen gets to the red X in the right hand corner.
Ninety percent of my family and friends send traditional greeting cards; even our texting, tweeting, Face-booking, Xbox playing, tech savvy adult kids send real greeting cards. It’s tacky to “give” a free eCard and nightmares to a loved one on a special occasion.
I keep my cards on an antique bureau in my kitchen where I can admire them for a few weeks after my birthday. I keep extra special cards forever. This year, the keeper card is from my sister. It will live in my trunk with the other keepers I’ve accumulated for forty years. I’ll look at it a few times in the future. I’ll laugh each time I read, “Sis, insanity is hereditary. We are so screwed! Happy Birthday, anyway!”

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Happy Birthday!

You are still young! And even if you are insane eventually, you'll have written all about it by then, I'm sure.

The only E-cards I've ever liked are the Hoops and YoYo ones from Hallmark because their voices are cute. Believe me, though, I am with you on this one. The antique bureau sounds really cool in the kitchen. I keep my birthday cards out for a long time and then the ones with notes written inside are kept even longer. Some forever, too.


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Belated Salutation

Don't know how I missed this post, missed this most auspicious event. Hope you had a poitively memorable day. I'll be dancing with the big six-oh next month. I hope nobody notices.

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Thank you, and preemptive happy birthday to you as well. I tell a lot of people about my birthday after the fact...underplaying it allows me to pretend another year hasn't gone by.

I'm not too sure about middle age. It beats old and decrepit, although when I'm old and decrepit, I may not be aware of it. That could be good or it could be bad. Depends...




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I always have to chuckle when I hear someone (especially someone claiming 'middle age') say they're not sure they'll know when they've finally become 'old and decrepit.' I usually refer them them to the nearest 5th grader for an honest appraisal.

If you haven't already read my poem When He's Sixty-Four, you might find it interesting.