Why standard-issue messages leave me cold

This year, I received 46 SMSs wishing me a happy Idul Fitri holiday and, as is customary, asking my forgiveness. It's not very numerous by any measure, but careful examination of their contents provides some interesting statistics.

First, only three of them opened with "Dear Zatni." The rest started immediately with something like, "On this very special day, allow us to ask for your forgiveness ..."

More than a handful of them comprised exactly the same words. The only difference was, of course, the name of the sender, which was found at the end. Nine of the messages did not even bear the sender's name, and six of them were sent by people whose cell- phone numbers I did not recognize.

On the other hand, I received two Idul Fitri cards in handwritten envelopes. One was from someone who I've always considered my guru --in the broadest sense. The other was from a very good friend of mine. Their signatures added the warm personal touch to their cards.

These cards, handed to me by the mailman, reminded me of the books on etiquette that I used to read decades ago. Of course, times have changed, but the books advised that personal notes should be individually handwritten.

Today, if you asked me to write anything with a pen or pencil, you would be in for trouble, for no one -- myself included -- can read my handwriting. It is because I have relied on the keyboard 99 percent of the time for too long.

The only times I'm forced to use my almost nonexistent penmanship is when I fill in the immigration card just before my plane lands, and God bless those immigration guys!

Sometimes, to help minimize the chance of my being barred from entering a country, my wife will complete all the departure and arrival forms for me as I pack my bag. At home, I keep a stack of blank immigration forms for those countries that I usually go to, so she can help me with this task.

Thus, due to our relentless dependence on technology, I guess some rules of etiquette clearly cannot be maintained. Yet, while it may now be OK to send our Minal Aidin wishes via SMS and e- mail, are they really meaningful if they are just broadcast to everyone in our phonebooks?

Are we genuinely asking for forgiveness if what we do is to simply change the name on a nicely composed message that we have received, and then forward it to a group of recipients?

Can an e-mail message still breathe the Idul Fitri spirit if it is sent to a mailing list, especially if it starts with, "To those who celebrate Idul Fitri, I would like to . . ."

Each time I see "Undisclosed Recipients" or a long string of e-mail addresses in the "To" box, I wonder whether the sender really thought about me when he added my address to his list. Then I wonder whether it makes sense to click on that "Reply" button.

Perhaps I'm too old-fashioned. Perhaps I am not making use of technology to be more efficient in everything that I do. However, consider what one young husband told me after the last Idul Fitri.

Two days before the big day, he received a Minal Aidin SMS from his wife's uncle. It made him feel pretty good about himself, thinking that he was now considered an accepted and respected member of the extended family.

But he soon learned that his wife, too, had received exactly the same message from the same uncle on her cell phone, as had everyone else in the big family.

"Can the Minal Aidin wishes be canned?" he asked me, "If so, what makes them any different from spam?"

I did not have the answer.

-- Zatni Arbi