humanity | Life After Ted

fullsizerender-11 Take a look at the picture on the left and tell me what you see. A beautiful stack of greeting cards, right? That’s what I see, too.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband, Jeff, saw me sitting at the table with said stack of greeting cards and shook his head. He didn’t say anything mind you, but sometimes body language speaks louder than words. Believe me, I heard his head shake loud and clear. The implication was that I have a problem.

Full disclosure, the head shake could have been directed at any number of things. Perhaps it was meant for our crazy dog, Moose, who can’t seem to get a drink from his bowl without proceeding to water the entire kitchen floor. It’s like his mouth is numb from some kind of canine dental treatment. The water just flows off the edges of his gums. Or maybe the head shake was Cardinals, Rams or Blues related. Jeff is a huge fan of all things St. Louis sports. So maybe the head shake was because the Cardinals didn’t make the playoffs. It’s possible. I don’t really know. I didn’t even ask. I just assumed it was meant for me.

And if it was meant for me, it might have been warranted. You see, I have A LOT of greeting cards. I don’t know exactly how many I have. Let’s just say that the above photo shows a fraction of my inventory. Let’s also just say that I probably shouldn’t buy another birthday card this year. Probably shouldn’t buy a thank you card, either. Or, a “Just for Fun” card. Or, a “I’m Thinking of You” card. Or a “Blank Card.” Or a card of “Encouragement.” But I know myself pretty well. I will buy more cards. I will add to the pile.

In my defense, I buy my cards at Trader Joe’s. If you’ve ever perused the greeting cards at Trader Joe’s, you probably understand my obsession. They are beautiful. They are unique. And, they are 99 cents each! Are you kidding me? It’s one of those deals I just can’t refuse. Ever. Never.

In fact, each time I make the trek to Trader Joe’s, I buy more cards. I could be running in for a bottle of three buck Chuck and a box of Joe Joe’s and you know I will snatch up a couple of greeting cards at the checkout. I can’t help it.

It. Just. Happens.

letter-writing It just happens because I love to send hand-written notes in beautiful greeting cards. And I want to make sure when I’m sending a card that it assists in accurately and adequately communicating my thoughts, feelings and intentions. In order to accomplish the preceding, I must have the right cards for all possible occasions. The image on the front has to be right. The words on the front have to be right. The words on the inside have to be right.

I have made a few mistakes when purchasing cards. Consequently, some cards at the bottom of the pile have been in my collection for years. For example, I have a blank card that has a gorgeous monarch butterfly on the outside. The following quote frames the picture, “Just when the caterpillar thought its world was ending, it blossomed into a Butterfly.” I loved this card when I initially purchased it. However, every time I reach for it, I return it to the pile. I worry what the recipient might think I’m implying. Will the recipient think he or she is a caterpillar? That they have yet to blossom? That their world is ending? My intention might be to send a word of encouragement and the end result could be to offend or frighten. So, yeah, I haven’t used the caterpillar card yet.

You can’t tell by looking at the pile, but in the last few months I’ve mailed a lot of cards. Sadly, the majority have been of the sympathy variety. The sympathy card, in my mind, is the most important card to get right. It also appears to be the one that most greeting card manufacturers get wrong the majority of the time.

The last time I looked for a sympathy card, I ended up purchasing a blank card because the sympathy cards’ messages were definitely not right. One said something about the spirit of the deceased loved one living on in everyone’s hearts. Another urged “be strong” and “this will pass with time.” And then there was the cheesy and thoughtless “when someone you love becomes a memory the memory becomes a treasure.” What does that even mean?

My perspective around sympathy cards has been shaped in large part by my experience more than 20 years ago when my brother, David, died.

David’s death came a little more than a year after a cancer diagnosis and months of treatment to include intensive chemotherapy, a double bone marrow transplant and radiation. About 10 months following his diagnosis, testing and scans revealed David was cancer-free. But the cancer came back.

David was young, happily married and a father of two young girls at the time of his death.

I empathize with those who came to pay their respects at David’s visitation and funeral. I know they were looking for just the right words to make everything better. So were the kind folks who sent sympathy cards. This may sound crazy – especially coming from a writer – but there were no words that could have made things better. None. Not “I know how you feel.” Not “he’s in a better place.” Not “he’s no longer in pain.” And not “time heals all wounds.”

The only message that resonated with me at that time was, “This really sucks.” And, I don’t think you could have found that missive in a greeting card.

So I buy blank cards to send to family and friends who have experienced the death of a loved one. I write my own message. That message is simple. I care. I’m really sorry. And if merited, I add, “This really sucks.”

Want to read more about the “Art of Condolence?” Click here for more.

I love Humans of New York (HONY). Initiated in the summer of 2010 by Brandon Stanton, HONY is a photoblog and bestselling book featuring pictures and interviews with people of New York City. According to Stanton, he started HONY because he “thought it would be really cool to create an exhaustive catalogue of New York City’s inhabitants.” His initial goal was to photograph 10,000 New Yorkers and plot their photos on a map.

“Somewhere along the way, I began to interview my subjects in addition to photographing them. And alongside their portraits, I’d include quotes and short stories from their lives,” Stanton explains, adding, “Taken together, these portraits and captions became the subject of a vibrant blog. HONY now has over ten million followers on social media, and provides a worldwide audience with daily glimpses into the lives of strangers on the streets of New York City.”

The pictures are beautiful. The copy, which is generally just a couple of sentences, is powerfully honest and often emotion evoking.

HONY is compelling, relatable and revealing. And some how, some way, HONY seems to really bring out the best in the people who follow it.

I follow HONY on Facebook. Not long ago, there was a picture and interview with a young man who reminisced about his deceased father. This young man shared that he didn’t have a close relationship with his dad because while the family had routines, they never really had conversations. He added, “During the last year of (my dad’s life), when he was really sick, he played solitaire in his office for six hours a day. My main memory of him is his silhouette reflecting off the wall of the corridor by the light of his computer screen.” There are more than 1,300 comments in response to this single post. For the most part, the comments seek to reassure. They are filled with compassion and encouragement. Someone named Ry Runge, for example, posted, “I’m sure he loved you more than you will ever know.” And yet another person commented, “Sorry for your pain.”

For this post and almost every HONY post, the comments are a validation, of sorts. The comments let the profiled person know: I see you. I hear you. I care about you.

The pictures and interviews by themselves are amazing. But when combined with the frank and sensitive comments left by fellow humans, the photoblog in its entirety is really a thing of beauty.

I know there are bigger stories around HONY. There is the picture and interview with a young student that inspired the $1.4 million fundraising campaign for his Brooklyn Middle School. I’m also aware of Humans of St. Louis and a related story of a community pulling together to support a family that is working to restore a dilapidated home. But it’s the more personal and tender moments that have captured my attention. I’m not sure why.

What I do know is that we all too frequently focus on what’s wrong with the world, our communities and ourselves. It’s uplifting to see such positive and tender interactions between humans.

I’ll also assert that through HONY, Stanton reminds us of our capacity to support and encourage our fellow humans and he fosters opportunities to demonstrate that capacity via “Likes,” “Comments,” and “Shares.” As Humans of Wherever, we have been afforded that same opportunity. It’s up to us to take advantage of it.

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