The Lessons of the Tacky Christmas Cards

I look forward to opening the mail these days since it’s the time o’ holiday cards. I usually start smiling even before I open the card. I guess which ones will have a photo, who will write a family newsletter (I know advice columns say, “Don’t!” but I like them and have been known to write a few myself), which greetings will be funny, which will be serious. And then I put them in a basket (well, they’re currently stacked on the island) and look at them again after the holidays are over. Yes, I save some of the photo cards because it’s fun to see how the “kids of my heart” have changed over the years.

This year, I’m depending on the kindness of family and friends to understand why I’m not reciprocating. But it won’t come as a surprise that I’ve spent some time thinking about the holiday card tradition that we began in 1992. Because I can rationalize just about anything, I’ve decided that the tacky Christmas card legacy taught me some life lessons that will transfer into future engagements with clients.

Be inclusive. Our first photo can only be viewed as a moment of serendipity (or insanity). Celebrating our first anniversary in the Poconos (now, you understand where at least part of “tacky” comes into play), we intended to take a photo somewhere on the grounds of the resort (with BOTH of us involved), but, after Don saw this print, no other option would do. We only bought 25 cards, thinking we'd send them to a select group of family/friends who would appreciate the quirky sense of humor. What we didn't consider was our friends talked to each other; then the phone calls began, “You don’t think I have a sense of humor?” Our entire list got the photo card, no matter the theme, every year after.

Without really thinking, I used the same process announcing this blog, but, post-January 1, I’m putting it on my FB page, sending emails to a broader circle of friends and colleagues, and holding my breath that my page views will increase. There will be some (I’m sure there already are) who wonder why in the world I’m doing a blog. I wonder that myself, but, just maybe, some really interesting projects will come from somebody I never even thought about as a possibility.

Join forces. The card from WKU’s 1999 Homecoming is perhaps my favorite and signaled a turning point in my attitude about the holiday card project. Big Red (the mascot who looks like Schmoo) was scheduled, but the cheerleading squad surrounded us spontaneously—yes, the game was in process and there were 4,000 fans thinking, “Who ARE those people and why are they on the sidelines?”  

I gave up on the argument that people sent photos of their kids, not themselves (!) and we became the dynamic duo, dividing duties based on our strengths. Don was the creative director and logistics planner. I handled the operations/admin side in ordering cards and prepping labels. We tag-teamed the licking and sticking. That’s what I hope happens in at least some of my new projects. I like working with trusted colleagues who do what they say when they say.

 Laugh at yourself. I’m not crazy about looking foolish. But a trip to the Magic Kingdom and a WKU alum who worked in Disney PR could only mean that “another Goofy card from the Collins’s” was our 2003 caption. Instead of the normal gaggle of five-year-olds standing in line for a photo op with the big dog, there we were. The Santa hats were an anomaly in March, but it provided for some smiles from our munchkin compatriots and their parents.

Nothing bad has ever happened when I laughed at myself. I’m sure it’s going to be a necessary tool in my 2011 kit.

Look for opportunities, but always have Plan B. The World Series in St. Louis (2004) card was pure chance—no Santa hats, we asked three strangers to stand with us, a lady we didn’t know snapped the pic, and the Cards lost the series in four (ouch!). The Monkey Business card (2009) was total Plan B when our hot air balloon ride was canceled (twice!). For years, we’ve had a Cheesehead idea in reserve. The hats are still in my possession if you want to borrow them.

cheryl v. 3.0 will be WIDE open to opportunity, but there’s an emergency fund ready in the wings.

The tacky Christmas card tradition may not be your style, but it gives me great memories and, most importantly, impetus for moving forward.  Happy holidays!