Sunday, January 23, 2011
D is for Dear . . .
yet another tale of childhood humiliation
Every year after Christmas my mother would ask me to write thank you letters to my grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins who sent me gifts. I would always procrastinate until long after Christmas vacation was over—some time in January. By then I couldn’t remember who gave me which gift. I wouldn’t know what to write.
Thankfully, my mother had a little book that told me how to write a good thank you letter. So I would follow the directions carefully.
So I wrote the same letter to everyone:
Thank you so much for the gift. It is a very special gift, which is why I like it so very much. This gift is like no other gift. Never has there been a gift like this gift. This gift is a gift I use and appreciate every day. It was so thoughtful of you to think of me and then send along this gift, the perfect gift for me.
My mother didn’t send all of my letters. Instead she saved one for a few years and then read it aloud at the dinner table. . .