My dad’s 85th birthday was earlier this week. Eighty-five! It’s quite an achievement—one I think even surprises him sometimes. Thankfully, he’s still in relatively good health. That morning, indulging a playful impulse, I texted him simply: “HBD!” I waited to see what would happen. He replied quickly: “TYVM!” Turns out he got what I was up to: sending a “Happy Birthday” message. His reply—“Thank you very much!”—confirmed that he decoded my note and was ready to play along.
We sometimes trade acronyms or initialisms like this, a bit of fun that occasionally leaves us both stumped. And in case you’re wondering, yes, our improvisational shorthand was quickly followed by a proper phone call to convey my heartfelt birthday wishes.
Living 500 miles apart means I couldn’t take him to dinner this year, so the text and call had to bridge that gap (though dinner is definitely on the agenda for my next visit). But the exchange prompted a broader question in my mind:
In our hyper-connected digital world, how do we genuinely celebrate big moments and maintain meaningful connections—especially when brevity is often the default?
Beyond Likes and Acronyms
We live awash in digital communication. Quick texts, Slack messages, and emojis are the currency of daily interaction. It’s undeniably efficient. But it’s not always sufficient for marking significant milestones—like eighty-five years of life.
That got me thinking about whether our reliance on fleeting digital acknowledgments erodes our ability to convey deeper sentiment. Do they even communicate—or register—emotionally?
I admit my emotional IQ dips when I’m deep in work and a cascade of Slack messages rolls in. I can’t be the only one who’s fired off 🤣 and 👍 in rapid response, only to realize later the message was about a sick kid or a project timeline going sideways.
“HBD!” delivered by text, even when understood and appreciated within the coded banter between my dad and me, doesn’t replace the warmth of a voice or the presence of a thoughtfully chosen card. Maybe this proves Marshall McLuhan’s point once again: the medium is the message. Taking the time to shop for a card, write a note, and get it to its recipient still matters.
Even in the digital age, 9 out of 10 U.S. households still purchase greeting cards, according to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. Millennials and Gen Zers, in particular, have embraced physical cards for people they deem “card-worthy” (I’m guessing that little nugget was written by a GenXer 🤦🏼).
The Remembering is the Message
I never forget my dad’s birthday, but my track record with his birthdate isn’t stellar. For reasons I can’t explain, my brain wants it to be April 14—but it’s not. And its proximity to Tax Day creates a perfect storm of distraction. For many years, April meant wrestling with complex tax prep, not just for my household but also helping my life partner with her small business finances—often involving forensic reconstructions of old receipts and invoices.
Emerging from that annual fog a few days before April 15, I’d feel a brief sense of relief—only to glance at the calendar and realize: “Oh my gosh, I missed it!” One short heart attack later, I’d follow up with an apologetic call. Thankfully, he was always gracious.
There’s no shame in needing tools to manage information overload. For many of us, they’re essential scaffolding, and I now have multiple calendar reminders in place around key events. This year, the reminder popped, the connection happened, and I can rest easy until 2026. A definite improvement.
From Print Shop to Prompt Crafting
This reliance on tools brings me back to thinking about life in the digital age. What if, instead of “HBD!,” I’d used an AI tool like Sora—a video-generation tool from OpenAI—to make a personalized birthday video? Would he have appreciated that? Is it fundamentally different from picking a card off the rack at Hallmark? (Yes, Hallmark stores still exist, though Party City recently went under).
It made me think of when my dad used to create birthday cards using The Print Shop. First released in 1984, The Print Shop became one of the most widely used (and reportedly widely pirated) home software programs of its time. It gave people an easy interface, complete with clip art and templates, to create signs, banners, and greeting cards on their dot-matrix printers. Turns out, they’re still making new versions today.
Looking back, I doubt my dad gave it a second thought. It was just a fun way to personalize something, connect over a shared interest in computers, or create something one-of-a-kind.
Maybe that’s part of the appeal of these tools—then and now. Not just novelty, but a desire to say something more specific and personal. Something beyond what’s available off the shelf.
Does using a tool—Print Shop then, or Sora now—make the gesture less authentic? If we spend as much time crafting the right prompt as we might choosing the right card, does that make it equivalent?
Maybe it depends on the why. Is it to cut corners, or to better communicate? And how would the recipient even know—unless we sneak in a humblebrag: “I spent three hours crafting the perfect prompt...”
I gave it about 30 minutes with Sora. Here’s how it turned out:
Ultimately, maybe the debate over tools and formats misses the point. Isn’t the real value in the act of reaching out? Whether it’s a milestone birthday or a mundane Friday, that impulse to connect is perhaps the most authentic gesture of all.
Doing Good by Connecting Better
So how do we navigate this—leveraging tools without losing the essence of connection?
For me, it comes down to intentionality. Recognizing which moments deserve more than a quick emoji. Choosing the medium that best fits the message. Maybe AI helps us brainstorm or polish. But the human touch—the decision to call, to write by hand, to reach out in a meaningful way—still matters.
The Message Behind the Medium
In the end, Dad got his “HBD!” He sent back his “TYVM!” And then we had a real conversation. Whether it’s a text, a call, a card (store-bought or Print Shop-made), or even an AI-assisted video, I think what matters most is the genuine thought behind it.
Celebrating milestones is important. So are check-ins. The simple “I was thinking of you.” The tools will change but the need to connect won’t.
That’s the message I’m taking from this reflection. Have a great weekend!
Photo Bonus
My first Friday Morning Reflections included photos of the sun rising over the ridge above my home—and this one happened while I was writing last week's post. Sharing it here to celebrate a year of writing, to reconnect back to where and why all this started, and also, it was a lovely sunrise. 🌅