My dearest Canadian cousins Kathleen and Winnie:
This sweet little Christmas bird card reminds me of you two Canadian sisters, but they could also be your two California cousins, Doni and Shelly.
First, thank you for the lovely holiday card, which I displayed prominently in my home, much to the delight of everyone. A Canadian Christmas card? How special! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Christmas card that says, “Warmest Christmas Wishes from the United States.”
Great idea, though.
Second, now that we’re officially in a new year I thought it’s time to explain the cause behind the delay of your gifts’ arrival, and also share the unbelievable Christmas package ordeal regarding the gifts sister Shelly and I mailed you.
Before I begin, please do not feel bad about what I’m about to disclose, especially because we are always so grateful to you both for the annual box of Canadian, maple-themed gifts you send us. So thoughtful. Thank you!
But in all honesty, never in all all our years since we discovered one another via Ancestry.com, and began mailing Christmas gifts to you in Ontario, Winnie, and you in Quebec, Kathleen, have we encountered so much difficulty sending you our annual holiday gifts. Believe it or not, but it took three days’ worth of maddening trips to the post office, where we were repeatedly turned away and sent home to remove what were considered restricted, contraband US items, banned by Canada.
Apparently, Canada and the United States are no longer best friends, which is not Canada’s fault, which literally everyone in the world knows. Unfortunately, it’s innocent citizens like us in both countries who suffer the consequences.
The trouble began on Day 1 of our attempt to mail your identical packages from your identical California cousins. Shelly and I had met at my house earlier and gift wrapped everything in festive paper and ribbons. Originally, each of your packages contained the usual: a homemade coffee cake from me, homemade, beautifully decorated cookies from Shelly, one of Shelly’s hand-crafted chicken-motif kitchen towels, and a pound of your favorite Peet’s Holiday Blend coffee.
In truth, things weren’t going so well at the post office for me even before the clerk began processing your packages. That day I was also attempting to mail a package to sister Bethany in Florida. When I say attempted, I mean sister Bethany’s package was refused. The clerk pointed to the faintest lettering beneath the box that was completely wrapped in white paper.
“That says vodka,” the clerk observed. “Is there vodka in this box? We can’t allow boxes that contain any references to alcohol.”
I laughed and said heck no, I’d just used a former vodka box, which is quite sturdy, but I’d wrapped it in white paper so the word vodka wasn’t visible.
“But I can still see it a little bit,” the clerk said as he squinted and pointed to a place that looked all white to me.
“OK, fine,” I said. “I’ll take a Sharpie and cross it out, or I can do this.”
I grabbed some of the free postal labels behind me, ripped off the words and stuck the white parts over the ghostly pale ‘vodka’ word.
There! Problem solved!
“That won’t work,” the clerk explained. “I’ve already seen the word ‘vodka’. I have knowledge that the word ‘vodka’ is there. I know it’s there.”
Besides, he said, the word ‘liters’ was visible, which could also suggest alcohol inside.
I appealed to reason, with no luck. Mind you, all this happened before he’d turned his attention to the Canadian packages. A few customers waiting in line heard the entire commotion, complete with my protests. Some people inside the post office voiced their support for my position, and their opinion that it was indeed absurd to reject a box that contained the words “vodka” (barely) and “liters”.
The clerk stood his ground. Fine! I gave up and set aside the Florida box to repackage at home in a different, surely more flimsy box. Little did I know that the Florida box issue was just the beginning of Day 1 of my postal service nightmare.
Here in the states, if you mail packages outside the country, you must first fill out a customs form that doesn’t just have the recipient and sender’s information, but it must list every single item, its weight and its value. I’m kind of an expert at filling out these forms, because I’ve had many friends and family members who’ve lived outside the US. I pride myself in getting the forms completed correctly. It’s kind of one of my USPS super powers, if I do say so myself.
“You’re not going to like me very much when I tell you this,” the clerk said as he started copying the information from my custom forms into his computer. “These boxes contain some items banned by Canada from being mailed from the United States into Canada. Look at the screen and see for yourself.”
Sure enough. He turned the screen toward me, and there in black and white were the words, “Restricted Items: COFFEE CAKE – Baked goods”.
What the hell? Canada was banning baked goods during the holidays? What? Why?
The clerk shrugged and said he didn’t know. He added that by the way, Mexico was banning chocolate from the United States for no good reason, too.
I asked to speak with a supervisor.
In mere seconds a new (to me) postal service face appeared before me; youthful, handsome, all smiles. He asked what he could do to help. I explained to USPS Supervisor Abbas Abugharbeya the dilemma of my ridiculously restricted holiday boxes; one because of the nearly invisible word “vodka” and “liters”, and two Canadian-bound packages that contained so-called restricted baked goods.
Abugharbeya gets an A+ for outstanding customer service skills. Charming. Talkative. Sympathetic. When I pointed out that perhaps I shouldn’t have been so honest when I filled out the customs form, he said that if Canadian customs folks randomly open packages and they find banned items (like Christmas cookies), the packages will be destroyed and never delivered. Man. That was sobering.
No kidding, Abugharbeya’s ability to diffuse a situation and calm an irate customer are wasted at the USPS. He should work as a hostage negotiator. Seriously. He’s that good. Before I knew it we were talking recipes. I mentioned baklava. He said he was half Greek, and loved baklava. But hey, had I ever tried to prepare galaktoboureko, an incredible custard-based Greek dessert? Why, no, I hadn’t, but I sure would look it up.
Jokingly (sort of) I asked how about if brought him some of my baklava, then would he allow my boxes with the banned baked goods to continue their merry way to Canada?
No more smiles. He said no, that would amount to a federal offense on his part if he accepted a baklava bribe.
Can’t blame a girl for trying. Home I went with my trio of banned boxes.
I called my twin to inform her of Canada’s mind-blowing ban on baked goods. She came over. We dismantled the boxes. We left inside the boxes Shelly’s hand-crafted kitchen towels, and the Canadian cousins’ favorite Peet’s Holiday Blend coffee. We removed the contraband baked items, then taped everything back together so I could try again the next morning when I mailed the Florida gifts to my younger sister in a new box minus references to alcohol.
Day 2, when I returned to the post office bright and early I noticed that the clerk who’d waited on me the previous day was gone, replaced by a friendly, familiar part-time clerk who listened patiently to my sad tale about the rejected boxes. When I told him about the previous clerk not allowing me to just cover up the word “vodka” with white tape, the part-time clerk shook his head and said that really, in his opinion, that was bull crap. I agreed wholeheartedly. We chatted happily while he processed the Florida box without any problems.
Next, I handed over the Canadian customs forms and the new, smaller, lighter boxes bound for Canada. Suddenly, the part-time clerk wasn’t so chatty anymore.
“Uh oh” he said with a frown. “These boxes contain coffee?”
“Yeah,” I said. “So?”
He turned the screen to face me.
“Restricted Items: COFFEE — Coffee and tea.”
I just about lost it.
“Are you serious??? Canada is restricting coffee and tea from the United States???”
The part-time clerk just shrugged. I gave up. I took both the Canadian boxes back. I called my sister. We discussed what to do. I went shopping later and bought some California pistachios. Our Canadian cousins love California things, as much as we love Canadian maple products, which they send us every year.
Third time was a charm because Day 3 of attempting to send the Canadian packages was a success. No offense to my local downtown Redding post office, but I took my Canadian custom forms to different nearby city. Never mind where.
The transaction at the away post office went off without a hitch. Almost. When I received my receipts I noticed that each package had an added charge of $11 on top of postage. When I asked the clerk to explain the extra charges, he said two words: “Trump’s tariffs.”
However, the clerk said that because the packages were clearly marked as gifts, perhaps Canada would take pity on the Canadian recipients and wouldn’t pass along the tariff charge, but he couldn’t guarantee it. So in a lose-lose situation, I paid $11 for each box on the US side, and my Canadian cousins could end up paying an $11 tariff on their side.
So, dearest Winnie and Kathleen, all this is a long-winded way of apologizing if you ended up paying an $11 tariff for your California holiday items. Also, it’s my way of explaining why your packages contained no baked goods this year. Regarding the other things that did make it in your packages, let’s just keep that between us, shall we? It’s a new year with new adventures, and there’s no sense having the FBI arrest me for sending you something that could get me thrown in jail, like candy canes or English toffee, or bribing a federal employee with baklava. As it is, I half expect charges brought against me for destroying those USPS mailing labels.
I guess I’m just not that much of a risk-taker these days.
Let’s hope that this time next year Canada and the United States will be friends once again, and Shelly and I can send you as many baked goods and as much coffee as we’d like.
Until then, I wish you and your families a wonderful 2026. Who knows, perhaps one year I should get my passport renewed and just come visit you. Surely it would be easier than mailing your Christmas packages.
Sincerely,
Doni, your California cousin
