The Laid-back California Holiday Card
Reclaim this holiday tradition with a spirit of bare feet, artistry and soulfulness
As a lover of mail, one of my favorite things about the holidays is the abundance of envelopes that arrive in December. I’m not sure who bears full responsibility, but holiday cards have become something different of late. Many are made by big corporate holiday card companies that offer a rather soul-less product. Many American families feel compelled out of obligation to mail out a card to their friends and family, usually with a smiling photo of the kids on the cover. A generic phrase like — “Season of Joy,” or “Merry and Bright” — is emblazoned across the front, leaving you little opportunity to express your family’s own words, story, and sentiments. If you have been finding this a chore rather than a pleasurable annual ritual, I am here to tell you: there is another way!
For the past decade I’ve been making our family holiday card — sometimes it’s a pen and ink pomegranate tree, other times a hastily sketched hot sauce bottle — and pairing the drawing with a brief hand-written year-end note of things we’ve all been up to and thinking about. I am not afraid to mention somber things too (world events, the loss of a family member, and even a divorce) in an effort to be candid. I create a drawing for the cover, write a brief letter with my favorite Pilot Precise pen, scan it, drop in a recent group snapshot of my daughters and email the PDF to the local printer. It’s been cathartic to be honest and on our holiday card, and the responses I receive from my loved ones are often that of being charmed or even moved that I’ve not candy-coated the details of our life.
Below are guidelines for how to do this yourself. The key is to start in November. By starting early, there is no rush, and you can do it over the course of a couple Sunday afternoons rather than in a mad rush in December’s onslaught of events and holidays demands. Here are a few pointers to help escape the corporate holiday card rat race. (Hint: it’s about soulfulness, not performing.)
Keep it real: The coolest holiday cards I’ve ever received feature photos of people’s vacations, a family in a pile on the sofa in their sweats, or huddled around a campfire on the beach. A holiday card doesn’t have to be fancy. It is about communicating with the people you love.
No need to brag: We love your kids no matter how well they are doing on the soccer team, and we loved them before they achieved first violin in youth symphony. Under-reporting your kids’ accomplishments is a community-loving act of de-inflation. How about a sentence that captures the genuine spirit of who they are? (“Marjorie still sleepwalks, but now does so while reciting Taylor Swift lyrics.”) Tell us about how tall they are and how they just discovered Edward Gorey. Let’s get closer to a friendly catchup and away from one-upmanship.
No need for a photographer. Getting costumed for a photoshoot feels performative and suggests the world of media production. Matching your clothes feels even more performative. Do you really do that in real life? Save the money and snap pictures in the park or on the beach at sunset. Or better yet, have a house party and take turns snapping pictures of the families present for use in their holiday cards.
Original art has soul. Clip art and generic digital art is white noise for our eyes — and I’d argue, our hearts. If you’re not artistically inclined yourself, commission an local working artist to draw or paint you something for your holiday card for a modest fee or a trade. Try a high school student, an artist friend, an artistic elder, or reach out to someone whose work you admire. I’ve found that my children’s work is often the most compelling art around and decidedly holiday-card cover worthy.
Cull your list. Most of us keep a digital mailing list, usually an excel file with people we don’t even really keep in contact with anymore. Honestly, save the paper. I’m not advocating for the burning of social bridges, but if you don’t have overwhelmingly warm feeling toward someone, they should not be on your holiday card list. Smaller, more intimate mailings make for a more personal weekend project of addressing the envelopes while you sip mulled wine by a candle and inscribe little love notes to Grandma and Hollis from your freshman dorm.
It’s OK to be emotional. A few years ago I went through a big life change upon the conclusion of my marriage. It was a massive change and I wanted to be honest, in an unfiltered way, about the impact of it upon our family. So I wrote a little poem and drew a sugar plum tree. I included a written note that made pandemic-era jokes but also addressed the loss we’d just endured. “If I am not real with my own inner circle of people,” I asked myself, “who am I real with?” I was flooded with support after sending this card. I felt loved and connected to my private community as a result of being genuine rather than holiday saccharine.
Beachtown Bohemia is a place where we relish in the unfussy, the real, the soulful. The California I love is a place that embraces the wildness and unpredictability of nature. Our lives are no different. I want my holiday to feel like a celebration of living — including all life’s imperfections. I want candles on the dinner table even if it’s strewn with my kid’s homework. I want a crackling fireplace, Handel’s Messiah, and the scent of cider on the stove. And I want a mailbox brimming with letters from people I love from across the globe. Letters with expressions of who my people are. On paper they have touched. That I can then hold in my hands and cherish.
Interested in my illustrations and/or prose for your holiday card? Drop me a line in the box below. I would be delighted to help.
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Ooh!! I love those Peace on Earth cards which are needed now more than ever!!
100% agree with all of this... thank you for sharing !