Hallmark's new 'Journeys'
series lets you offer your shoulder without writing a word.
March
03, 2007
EVER IN TUNE
with the changing emotional zeitgeist, Hallmark has just introduced
a new line of greeting cards: the "Journeys" series. "Welcome
to the new normal," the Hallmark website's Journeys page announces.
Then it explains the four categories of cards. There's "Give
Hope" (for those awaiting test results, having surgery or
undergoing chemo); "Show Support" (for coming out of
the closet, addressing addiction or quitting bad habits); "Help
Cope" (for infertility, miscarriage or caring for an aging
parent); and "Life Spirits" (for divorce, job loss, depression
or "leaving a bad situation").
We can learn
a lot from these cards — and not just that coming out falls
into the same category as fighting addiction (who knew?). By expressing
thoughts that leave many of us tongued-tied, embarrassed or desperate
to run out of the room, a Journeys card not only does life's hard
work for us, it gives us permission to stick our noses in other
people's business and actually get credit for being thoughtful.
Where we
once felt obligated to avoid the subject of, say, abject failure
(at least in the presence of the one who failed), we can now send
a card that reads: "I'm sorry about the way things turned
out. I believe in you as much as ever … I hope you do too." Then
we can go back to avoidance.
There are
plenty of others to choose from. Like this: "When dark clouds
hang over your head day after day, how do you build a rainbow?" The
answer? (Open the card, open the card!) "One color at a time." Awww.
That's not only sweet, you could use it for lots of situations,
including (because there's a rainbow reference) coming out! So
if you know a newly out gay person who just ran his company into
the ground, consider that a two-fer.
The beauty
of Journeys cards — pastel-hued and written in the looping
calligraphy you see in the opening credits of reality shows about
weddings — is how specific they are. There's a 12-step card
( "You didn't just turn it over, you really turned it around")
and an infertility card ( "I wish I could make things happen
for you the way you want them to. I know how much a child would
mean to you"). There are cards for "hair loss due to
treatments" and thank-you notes for hospice workers (helpful
hint: Buy these ahead of time).
Unfortunately
(well, maybe not), none of the Journeys cards seemed appropriate
for anyone I know. But I discovered that there's nothing like a
little sugar-coated schadenfreude to get the creative juices flowing.
Before I knew it, I was composing my own. On the cover: "Sometimes
in good times we lose sight of the bad times. We laugh. We dance.
We take out zero-interest real estate loans." Inside: "The
best form of closure is foreclosure. You're on your way!"
SEE, ANYONE
COULD do it. And why not? We used to send highly personalized greetings
using that now-arcane object known as the blank card. I say arcane
because lately the blank spaces are all filled with gooey verses
about "true friendship" or pretentious Rumi quotes. This
hogs space, making it impossible to compose a coherent message
(try sending Grandma something that says, "Thank you for the
sweater/You know who you are/you are the shining star/It fits perfectly!").
It also enables an already virulent epidemic of verbal laziness.
Maybe our
epistolary resources have been exhausted by the demands of e-mail
and text messaging, but hardly anyone writes his own messages anymore,
at least not on actual paper. From custom-printed holiday cards
the senders don't even bother to sign to e-cards with prewritten
greetings, we now see writing a note the same way we see housework,
child care and personal grooming. Too busy or too inept to do the
work ourselves, we contract it out.
Of course,
the Hallmark folks have been cashing in on our laziness in one
form or another for 100 years. With Journeys, they've also caught
us teetering on the cusp of another important marketing moment
in the "new normal": the devaluation of privacy.
Confession,
it turns out, is our primary form of self-expression. Teenagers
who once hid their diaries from their parents now think nothing
of posting their innermost thoughts on MySpace. Domestic disputes
that we once hoped the neighbors wouldn't overhear are now an occasion
to try to get on the "Dr. Phil" show. Combine this obsession
with exhibitionism and the grateful willingness to let someone
else do it, and pretty soon someone is purchasing a card that tackles
her best friend's eating disorder and maybe even her transgendered
neighbor's restless leg syndrome.
There's more.
If Hallmark can empower a holiday like National Secretary's Day
(now known as Administrative Professionals Day), surely we're only
a few short years from National Bottoming Out Day, and even bigger
sales for Journeys cards. Because when you care enough to send
the very best, you might as well rub it in.