In my last year at Hallmark, we finally began putting verses on computer. It had been all in filing cabinets on index cards. They had to assign a 4 digit serial number to each sentiment, for each area of feeling.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
A Hallmark card with paragraphs about my beauty written by a stranger is vaguely depressing.
Each year, in my quaint efforts to send out paper holiday cards with personal messages, I probably discard one for every three I actually manage to put in the mail. The reason is that my handwriting is now less legible than it was when I was in the second grade.
When I was a postdoc, I jotted every fresh thought on a three-by-five card and kept them in a card catalogue.
Most people who are on the inside of a technology have no idea what it's like to look at from an end user's point of view. This is why they have focus groups. I'm really familiar with this because I worked 10 years for Hallmark Cards in the U.S.
I ignore Hallmark Holidays. And this comes from a guy who has sold a million Opus greeting cards.
Handwriting challenges aside, I love paper cards. I love the endless stewing involved in picking them out at the store. I love buying holiday stamps at the post office, and I love that 'whoosh' sound the cards make when I drop them into the mail slot.
I grew up writing thank-you notes. Real, honest-to-goodness, pen-and-ink, stamped and posted letters. More than simple habit, it's about what the commitment to expressing your thoughts and feelings in writing says about the character of the writer. About the joy such notes bring to the reader.
I write with a Uni-Ball Onyx Micropoint on nine-by-seven bound notebooks made by a Canadian company called Blueline. After I do a few drafts, I type up the poem on a Macintosh G3 and then send it out the door.
In my own life, I've seen myself ramping up the amount of text I consume digitally. For me, it's the weight and inconvenience issue - I want anything that will spare me having to carry around reams of paper.
We live in such a digital age. Paper is going out of our lives. A poem on paper is tangible.