TODAY IS the last day for posting letters and parcels for Christmas to “the rest of the world” and the US, according to An Post. So, like many thousands of parents in Ireland, I am frantically trying to parcel up gifts which will make their way across the globe to Australia, where I hope my daughter will receive them on time.
But as I enclose our Christmas card with her goodie box, my heart sinks with the realisation that I will shortly face the annual annoyance of receiving Christmas cards myself.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love getting Christmas cards. I love the fact there are some people with whom we have almost lost touch, but who each year send us a festive greeting which gladdens my heart.
And although I am very attached to my laptop and other communication devices, virtual Christmas cards, no matter how sophisticated or how clever the animation, are no match for the handwritten message on an old-fashioned, snail-mail card which can then be displayed on my mantelpiece. So I like Christmas cards. The problem is the envelopes they come in . . . or, more precisely, the way they are addressed.
I got married 15 years ago to a very nice man called Paul Sherwood. I like his surname. In fact, I think his name is actually a little bit nicer than mine. . . but it’s his. My name is Barbara Scully, and after 34 years as Barbara Scully, it felt most unnatural to change it just because we had wed. I had no intention of using the prefix Mrs either. Mrs Sherwood was my husband’s mother. Men remain Mr because their status has not changed on marriage. I remain Ms for the same reason.
Now I consider myself to be a tolerant woman and I am fully aware that not all women share my view in this matter.
I feel that true equality for women involves choice. I would never force my views on any other woman, not even my own daughters, although I am constantly amazed at how quickly most young women today rush to change their name on marriage. But if that is what they want to do, that’s fine. Good luck to them. My choice, however, did spare me the hassle of changing bank accounts, passport and other legal documents.
I will admit my retention of my own name does sometimes cause logistical problems. I leave his dry cleaning in and he collects it – I have used my name or his? Our family’s medical records in the local GP practice are a bit all over the place as the doctor double-barrelled us but we can never remember whose name is first. Is it Scully Sherwood or Sherwood Scully?
But back to my Christmas cards. Why do so many people have a problem with using my name on our Christmas cards?
Every year for the last 15, I have been somewhat dismayed at how difficult friends and acquaintances find it to address our festive mail to either Paul Sherwood Barbara Scully or even the Sherwood Scully family.
The majority still arrive bearing the legend Barbara Paul Sherwood. Or sometimes it’s just Mr and Mrs Sherwood. But every year there is at least one which is addressed to Mr and Mrs Paul Sherwood – a form of address which airbrushes me out of the equation altogether. That’s the one card that raises my blood pressure to a dangerous level.
I know I am in the minority in keeping my “maiden” (think about that too) name. But I also know I am not alone. So as you write your Christmas cards this year, will you just think before you scribble the address? This is the season of goodwill, so try not to annoy us women who like our names to appear on our Christmas post.
Season’s greetings.
