The Tartan

By Jimmy Baracia and Sofia Johnson

Spoiler warning for “Christmas Cards!”

[This is another more serious edition of Book Buddies. The next one will be more lighthearted; we (hopefully) promise.]

Jimmy Baracia: We are in the room that we didn’t tell you about last time because we didn’t want you to steal it. And guess what?

Sofia Johnson: It’s still empty.

JB: So, we’re still not saying where we are. Happy finals week!

SJ: Best of luck to everyone!

JB: Take care of yourself. Your grades are not worth sacrificing your mental or physical health, I promise you.

SJ: It’s true. You’re doing great, and you are loved, and we send so much love and so many good vibes. 

JB: Yes, 100 percent. Since the holidays are coming up, we are going to read a holiday story called “Christmas Cards” by John Updike. It was published in “The New Yorker” on Dec. 14, 1997.

SJ: Jimmy, tell me about why you picked this story. 

JB: I’m gonna read the first line, and this is the reason why I picked it: “How strange it is — gut-wrenchingly strange — to realize that your parents, in a snapshot taken by memory, are younger not only than you now but than your own children.” I’m a very nostalgic person, and I always love to look at the people I love when they were younger, like seeing when my parents or grandparents were my age or looking at wedding photos. There’s something so sentimental about being able to capture a person at a particular time. Even if it’s just a mental snapshot, like a memory, and you recall that memory. I think there’s something so sweet about looking back and reflecting on all the time that you’ve spent together or the time before you even met the person. 

SJ: I think we tend to forget that our parents are people too, and have had lives before us. This person says they’re “younger not only than you now but than your own children,” so they’re obviously a lot older. Looking back, you think, “Wow, when I was a kid, my parents were just kids, and they didn’t really know what was going on.” The whole story is about that sort of reflection on childhood and the circumstances of your parents. I thought it was beautiful. 

JB: I thought so too. We really do forget that our parents had a whole life before us. 

SJ: Which is weird, right, that we forget that? I don’t know why. I guess we’re just so focused on their role in our lives that we forget. I’m very fortunate to be able to say that my parents are very dedicated to being parents and are very good parents, and they’ve always been very present in my life. It’s hard to imagine their life before that, which sounds so egocentric.

JB: I completely get it. I’m one of four, and I feel like everything that my parents have done has been for me and my siblings. It’s hard to imagine a life where my parents are going to high school. I also feel like that with my friends. Like you, for example. I met you last year, but I never knew you as a kid or in high school, so it’s hard to pinpoint and imagine you as a kid. Or sometimes I’ll tell friends stories of me as a kid, and they’re like, “You wouldn’t have acted like that.” We change and we grow. We have all these layers, and every year there’s more built upon it. And deep down, we’re still the same person, but there are so many different layers accumulating to make us who we are. I feel like this is a story that really illustrates that: the growing up, and acknowledging that.

SJ: Yeah, and remembering one specific moment that they portray as very influential in their life, even though it was one Christmas and one moment on that Christmas. Oh my God, I just got why it’s called “Christmas Cards.” Because it’s a deck of cards. On Christmas. I was gonna ask about that, but now I get it. 

JB: I am a firm believer that a relationship with those around us — the ones that we love — is the most important thing in the world. Whether that be your blood family, or your found family, or both. I think that there is nothing more beautiful than the human experience, and being able to see people beyond their flaws and love them for who they are. I feel like this story touches on that. 

SJ: I think it does. Also, stories told through the eyes of children have a specific narrative style, something that, as English majors, we know always comes up in discussion, because it’s a very intentional choice, and it really affects the way that the story is told. It’s a story of ongoing love, but also that childhood embarrassment of your parents. You know, like at the end it says, “while walking up Philadelphia Avenue with the other children as they noisily boasted of their presents — I seeming to be, as one sometimes is in a dream, tongue-tied.” This takes place during the Great Depression, right? So it’s a very different circumstance than kids today being embarrassed by their parents or their circumstances. There’s still that childish idea of being embarrassed about not getting as cool of presents as your friends, or as many presents as your friends, but that being told through the eyes of a kid in the Great Depression who doesn’t necessarily understand the circumstances just highlights that those emotions still existed, which I think is really interesting. 

JB: It is. Obviously, it was not written by a child, but it’s told through the view of a child. Even though it’s told through this memory-type lens of his childhood, we get a sense of guilt about all of this, and I think that that is so important. It’s the guilt of growing up and acknowledging the fact that our parents have sacrificed so much for us. And when you’re a kid, you don’t really acknowledge what is being sacrificed for you. 

SJ: You’re not as grateful as you should be, and you realize that when you’re older. 

JB: It’s like when your parents drop you off at school and they’re like, “Give me a kiss,” and you’re like, “No, I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of my friends.” The older you get, you acknowledge that there’s a limited amount of time with the ones that we love.

SJ: I think that kind of loops back to the idea of, “Our parents are people too.” And they are, hopefully, doing the best they can. And so are we. When we’re kids, we don’t mean to take things for granted, but we do, because that’s how life works. I think that’s something that a lot of people struggle with — that guilt — as they get older.

JB: It’s a heartbreaking acknowledgement. It’s evidently something people know the feeling of very well. 

SJ: Something that stood out to me was them mentioning how even now, they think about how small the gift [of a deck of cards] is for a husband to his wife, which I thought was interesting. It reminded me of the idea that the grandness of a gesture is equivalent to the grandness of someone’s love, which I don’t think is true at all. But I think that is an idea we have when we’re younger, especially around Christmas. I thought that was really powerful. 

[A classic Jimmy and Sofia tangent is coming up, but I’ve kept it in because it’s close enough to the subject matter to reasonably and guiltlessly include.]

JB: Yes, I clocked that. My love language is to give gifts. I love giving gifts more than anything. But when it comes to giving gifts — or even when I receive gifts — I don’t care about a price tag. I don’t think anyone should. I think something that shows that you know me and you know the things that I love always speaks volumes. 

SJ: Or handmade stuff. A lot of the gifts I remember are ones that show that people care. I love it when I get notes from people.

JB: No one understands how much I love to receive letters. It’s the same thing with pictures. It captures a specific moment in time, and it’s always there. And handwriting too. 

SJ: Handwriting is so special and weirdly personal; it makes you feel so connected to people. Especially now that everything is very technology-oriented, if I get a handwritten note, I’m keeping it forever. I’m looking at it all the time.

[Long story short, if you ever want to get Jimmy or Sofia a gift, GIVE THEM A HANDWRITTEN NOTE (please).]

[Jimmy and Sofia start to get really depressing here. What’s happening to them? Why are they like this? I’m blaming it on the weather and the ever-looming dread that comes with being a 20-something English major.]

SJ: Talking about the story itself and how it’s written, I really do love the detail in it — and it’s fun that it takes place in Pennsylvania. 

JB: I also appreciate the detail and how it captures this one specific moment, this one specific day, and just around the time of Christmas. It feels so intimate like you’re really there. And it reminds me a lot of my Christmases growing up, and how you can always expect certain things. I love maintaining traditions. I think it’s so much fun —

[Sofia raises an eyebrow.]

JB: — Reasonable traditions! I’m not talking about “The Lottery” type stuff here [callback!], I’m saying, like, Christmas ham.

[Another tangent here. Lots of laughs, none of them with any sensible context.]

SJ: Okay, going back to the sort of narrative style of like, seeing things through a child’s eyes. I’m looking back at the first paragraph and it ends with, “a tart, refreshed awareness of where one stood on the socioeconomic scale.” Sort of conversely to what we were talking about earlier, where kids don’t really understand what’s going on, I think there is a level of consciousness here. This kid is aware of his family’s socioeconomic status because of his surroundings, which I think is really poignant, especially since this is set in the Great Depression. The sense of socioeconomic inequality throughout the story is a really important theme, which is highlighted by Christmas. It can be such a joyful time, but it can also be a very stressful time. 

JB: If you are in the mood for a nostalgic and bittersweet story about Christmas, I recommend you check this story out. 

SJ: I concur. Happy holidays from…

BOTH: The book buddies! 

JB: Enjoy your break. Rest up. Eat well… slay. But specifically S-L-E-I-G-H.