Mercy buckets
Growing up, writing thank-you notes was par for the course each time we received a gift, or somebody did something especially nice for us (or at least a grown-up’s view of something especially nice like, say, dragging us to an Engelbert Humperdink concert on a Sunday afternoon. Thank you, Granny).
Because I was a kid, the act of note writing always seemed like such a chore and, once I’d said thanks for the great hairy orange sweater, I wear it all the time, I never knew what else to add. School’s good, yesterday I skinned my knee and beat up Ann Bartlett she smells really weird.
Later on, I discovered that such notes were not a commonplace in most households, and friends used to tease me that there was no need to send them a thanks for having shared their beer and fries with me.
So relieved, I got out of the habit. But, when I was little, I also didn’t know how nice it is to get those notes in the mail, and too dumb to recognise the fine balance they create of giving, receiving and giving back again.
On an impulse, a little while back I wrote a note to the staff of an online dictionary service that I use near every day. It’s such a fine service and makes me seem smarter than I really am on a regular basis, so I just wanted to say thanks and hurray for them.
They wrote back with golly, your note’s on its way round the office, and making everyone’s day, and I was right chuffed.
So even if they can be a little tricky to start, hoping not to sound like a stalker or a gimp, I’ve decided that this year I’m going to try to write thank-you notes to those who’ve helped smooth the way, or made even one day just that much sweeter and worthwhile.
To teachers and writers, and friends long out of view, to my once mentor sister now locked in a dark corner with demons, and to those who, over the years, have gone out of their way for me for no reason other than their humanity.
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Comment
- Thank you for your wonderful post.
— Gabriel Apr 14, 7:24pm # - ah. the shame: I never finished the thank-you notes for my wedding gifts, and it’s too late now. Or is it? Could I send a “Thank-you anyway” note? I figure my friends love me in spite of my tackiness, but your post makes me want to try just a little bit harder.
— DawnCoyote Apr 15, 1:08am # - Being unable to say that someone inspired you, held you to a higher promise, kept you from disillusion, gave you the keys to what you barely knew was there – because they’re gone.
It’s bleak. You hope they kind of knew it somehow, but in my own life I’ve had great surprise at things like that people have said.
We’re so small, this is all so big.
Start here, yes.
Thanks Gail, for setting a tone of active mindfulness and unabashed smarts.
— Juke Moran Apr 15, 8:44pm # - Fantastic, Gail! Here I thought I was the only one to be taught to write thank you notes from the time I seven years old. I’m still writing them now (handwritten whenever possible), and it’s amazing how it touches people.
I tormented my daughter with teaching her to write those notes from the time she was eight years old (her handwriting needed improvement to the level of “barely legible”). She writes them, but as with her generation, it’s done by email.
It’s not so hard to send out a line to say, “hey, thank you, your work/effort/kindness didn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated.”
— Roggey Apr 19, 2:54pm # - Nice thoughts. My thank yous – usually from boarding school – always included a football (soccer) score.
“Thanks for the miracle italic fountain pen – I write poems with it every day. Weather is fine. 1st XI beat Betteshanger 2-1.”
— roger Apr 22, 9:24am #
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