Volume 5, Number 48  Friday, December 17, 2004

The Anniversary of the Blind Elephant

Today is my parents' 37th wedding anniversary. For their 40th wedding anniversary, my brother and I are planning on renting them elephants, which they will ride bareback through the streets of Philadelphia while dozens of homeless people, whom we will bribe with Dunkin' Donuts, will throw confetti at them, and clap and sing. But seeing as this was only their 37th anniversary, I figured mostly what I would do was get them a card.

Which seemed simple enough, until I actually started perusing the card rack.

When it comes to shopping for greeting cards, I have a philosophy: convenience, thy name is supermarket.

And while the selection in the supermarket card aisle is quite expansive, it's not unlike shopping at Warehouse of Argyle Socks -- there's plenty to choose from, but you can't shake the feeling there's something better out there.

Nonetheless, to my supermarket greeting card aisle I went, where I discovered that anniversary cards fall into two categories -- the pseudo-humorous, always-depressing, "Boy, isn't it funny how marriage is all about snoring, farting, controlling the remote, avoiding the in-laws, arguing about the toothpaste, admitting your spouse is always right, and a boring sex life?" cards, and the sweet, "The world is wonderful, your love is wonderful, marriage is wonderful" cards.

"For your anniversary," read one of the former, "thought you might like a little something to spice up your marriage." The front of the card showed cartoon drawings of lingerie, champagne, chocolates . . . all the standard crap that's supposed to be romantic. Of course, when you open the card, there's one of those little truck-stop pepper packets taped inside. "This ought to do it," it reads.

Har-de-har-har.

The next card I found said, "At last! This controversial anniversary card with its explicit bedroom scene can be shown for the first time." These words were written across a cartoon bedroom door; surrounding the door were cut-out word bubbles, each with its own exclamation -- "More! More!", "Right there!", "Don't stop!", "A little more to the left!", and my favorite, "Pant! Pant!" Open it up, and what do you find?

Of course -- a hapless husband lugging a lounge chair, with his wife shouting instructions and encouragement.

Har-de-har-har.

I spied a pink-and-purple card configured checkerboard-style. On each purple square was a cartoon toilet with the seat up; on each pink square was a cartoon toilet with the seat down.

"Another year of sharing life's ups and downs together," it said inside. "Happy Anniversary."

And I say to you again: Har-de-har-har.

(Quick public service announcement, boys and girls -- I read once that when you flush the toilet, aerosolized water particles can spray up to six feet in the air. That's toilet water, friends. And your toothbrush is probably within six feet of your toilet bowl right at this very moment. Ever since I read that, I always put the seat and the lid down before I flush. You might want to consider it, too.)

But wait -- there's more. "A kiss is just a kiss," read another, featuring the ever-annoying Garfield, Arlene and Odie recreating the piano scene from Casablanca, "A sigh is just a sigh." The inspiring message inside? "But a good loud snore means you're married."

That one was so funny I forgot to laugh. Of course, Garfield hasn't been funny since 1983, and probably then only because I was eleven, so maybe that was actually supposed to be one of the sweet cards.

Inside that sweet category lurk two sub-categories -- cheesy and cute.

The cheesy cards you're no doubt familiar with -- they feature some sort of flower or nature scene and some sort of "For Two Special People on their Anniversary" greeting on the front, followed by some nauseating poem inside. I picked up one under the "Anniversary - Parents" tab that said, "For Two Special Parents With Love." On the inside, of course, was a poem:

It always means so much to have
Two parents just like you
Because of all the love you give,
The special things you do.

I don't know how it ends, because I had to put it down. I started gagging right there in the card aisle.

The cute sweet cards invariably feature two animals. Apparently, animals are a good metaphor for marriage -- even though many aren't monogamous. Or maybe it's that when you get married, you begin to resemble animals.

Either way, animals are cute, and, apparently to card-makers, marriage is cute, so animals and anniversary cards go together like salt and pepper.

And on these cards, the male animal is always wearing some sort of distinctly male fashion item, like a tie or a top hat. The female wears a bow.

For example, one card showed two monkeys dancing -- the fella in a top hat, the lady with a bow. "Happy Anniversary, you party animals!" it said on the inside.

Another showed two dogs sitting side by side, the dude in a blue tie, the chick with a pink bow. "Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad," it said on the front. Inside, of course, was a poem with the requisite "doggone wonderful" cheesiness.

Monkeys, dogs, bears, birds . . . the animal anniversary options were endless.

But none of them -- nor any of the "humorous" cards -- were right for my parents.

Which is why I was so glad when I found a card written in Braille. It had words printed in English, too (this is not to suggest that Braille isn't English; I assume in this case it was, but of course, I don't read Braille -- it's entirely possible the writing on the card was in English and the dots were in Portuguese), which read, "Two Roses," to go along with a picture of two roses. I suspect these words were there so that when they translated them into Braille, the reader would know (or imagine) that there was a picture of, you know, two roses on the front of the card.

Anyway, on the inside, it said, "May your anniversary be filled with special moments as beautiful as the love you share." And then it had a bunch of dots.

Without the dots, the card would have been kind of cheesy. Okay, it would've been really cheesy, though at least the roses weren't wearing a top hat and a bow. But with the dots . . . well, suddenly the card became a sensual, 3-D experience.

Below the dots, I wrote the sweetest, funniest note to my parents you ever did read. I'd tell you what it says, but I don't want to make you cry.

And I've got to tell you, even though my parents aren't blind, and in fact, I don't know anyone who's blind, I'm inspired by this whole Braille greeting card thing. If you do send one to someone who's blind, you're being tremendously sensitive to their needs. But even those with sight can enjoy Braille. I mean, it's not like you'd get a Braille greeting card and say, "I don't read Braille -- I have no idea what this says." You'd know exactly what it said, because it's printed right there in non-Braille English. But as a bonus, you get to rub your fingertips over all the little dots, which feels really cool.

What this means is, I've already begun my search for next year's anniversary card -- I'm looking for something with two elephants holding trunks and eyeing each other romantically. I can't tell the difference between a boy elephant and a girl elephant -- at least not from the front -- but I'm sure this card will put a top hat on the boy elephant and a pink bow on the girl elephant to make it clear.

I just hope the poem inside won't be too horrifically cheesy. But if it is, I hope it's long.

That way, more dots.

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