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Thank-you notes are words, so much more
(by Christine Thome - January 21, 2010)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Thank-you notes are words, so much more
My kids think I am the most outdated person in the world.
I still like to get my news delivered to my front porch each morning. I can't imagine reading a book on Kindle or some sort of other electronic device. And I still believe handwritten notes, especially thank-you notes, are necessary.
The computer age has made it acceptable to send correspondence via e-mail, but, for some reason, holding a type-written page printed on a laser jet with the Yahoo logo at the top just doesn't project the same sentiment as a hand-written note. The scribble of a young child's hand or the beautiful script of a grandmother's writing expresses as much, if not more, than the written message. These are the notes we tuck away in a drawer only to unexpectedly find them years later. And yet they still bring as much joy as the first time we read them.
I have saved most of my children's notes over the years. Many are sentiments written in a Mother's Day or birthday card, and some are scribbled apologies on a torn piece of school paper. All of them mean so much to me, and, if the house was on fire, I would do everything possible to save them, because they are literally scraps of memories that can never be replaced.
One of my favorite thank-you notes that I received came from my nephew Matthew when he was about 6 years old. Our family was on vacation in Florida when we saw a really cool T-shirt that changed colors every time you went out into the sun. Everyone agreed it was the perfect birthday present for Matthew.
Several weeks after sending him the T-shirt, a note arrived in our mailbox. As a 6-year-old, his handwriting was pretty good, but he obviously still needed a bit of help with the spelling, because, whenever he wrote the word "shirt," he inadvertently left out the letter "r" so that the entire note read (cleaned-up here for newspaper purposes): "Dear Aunt Chrissy and Uncle Johnny, Thank you for the sh*t. I love my sh*t. I wear my sh*t everyday! Everybody at school loves my sh*t! I drew you a picture of me wearing my sh*t. I hope you like my sh*t picture. Love, Matthew."
My sister called me the next day and left a message on our answering machine.
"Hi, Chrissy! I'm guessing you got Matthew's thank-you note by now. Just so you know, I was going to make him change the spelling, but I thought you would appreciate the original version more."
She had no idea. Not only did I laugh until I cried, but that note had a place of honor on our refrigerator for several months and remains tucked away today.
I require my children to write thank-you notes for gifts they receive. However, I must nag them over and over, just as my mother had to nag me. Four weeks after Christmas, I finally locked all the house doors and announced that no one was leaving until thank-you notes were completed.
"I don't have any stationery," my son whined.
"Here, I bought you some," I said, throwing a package of notes his way.
"These are ugly!" he whined.
"You are not leaving this house until you write your thank-you notes," I demanded.
"What if we didn't like our gift?" one daughter asked.
"Lie," I said.
"What if we returned it for something else? Do I thank them for the gift they gave me or the thing I got instead," another child asked.
"Thank them for the original gift," I said.
"Here!" my son said as he threw his notes in my lap. I looked them over and was surprised to see nice, personal sentiments in each. However, at the bottom of each was a line that read: "P.S. -- I did not pick out these ugly cards. My mom did."
"If you're writing a column about thank-you notes, can't you just use it to thank everyone for us?" my daughter asked.
"Nice try," I said, suddenly aware that she had come up with the perfect way to end my column.
Thank you for reading this column.
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