An Exciting Time for Thank-You Notes
She carves them at her computer, one keystroke at a time, painstaking thank-you notes, expertly crafted.
Dear Grandma,
Thank you so much for the purple outfit. My mom said it’s a really cute color. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
Her skinny fingers keep striking between the plastic keys, becoming wedged between the G and the H or the K and the L. Into the places where the doughnut crumbs fall.
Like a lot of young writers, the kid could work faster with a chisel and stone tablet. But she is determined to use this computer, no matter how slow and impractical it is.
Dear Aunt Stephanie,
Thank you so much for the Christmas money. I look forward to using it wisely. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
Dear Uncle Dick,
Thank you so much for the Christmas money. I look forward to using it wisely. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
In the interest of time, the notes take on a certain symmetry. At her elbow is her handwritten list of who gave her what. Sometimes, the little girl merely has to change the gift-giver’s name. No sense killing herself over this stuff.
Dear Kurths,
Thank you so much for the gift certificate to Old Navy. I’ve really wanted to shop there recently. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
Dear Uncle Jack,
Thank you so much for the gift certificate to Gap. I’ve really wanted to shop there recently. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
That’s how almost all her notes turn out. Highly personal. Right to the point. The more notes she does, the faster she becomes. After 20 minutes, she is a thank-you note machine.
Dear Miss Hamrick,
Thank you so much for the beautiful tea set. It’s the prettiest one in my room. You are a pretty good tennis player and a good talker. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
Each year, we struggle to get the thank-you notes out, preferably before the Fourth of July. That’s our target date, though we’ve been known to miss it by a month or two.
Often, they arrive in mailboxes in August, with school registration forms and soccer sign-up information.
Generally, the relatives are impressed by this speedy delivery of thank-you notes. Not once have they ever complained.
This year, the kids are doing better than ever, propelled by the excitement of the new century, fueled by the idea that they are starting fresh.
“It’s an exciting time,” their mother says over and over again, until one or two of them almost come to believe it.
“It’s an exciting time,” I say as I muscle the Christmas tree from the house, sticking my head into its rib cage and driving it out the front door.
“Dad, there’s tree needles in your hair,” the boy says.
“That’s my new toupee, I explain, brushing the tree needles into the thin spots.
“Nice,” the boy says.
“Thanks,” I say.
Dear Aunt Holly and Uncle John,
Thank you so much for the scrapbook-making kit. I’ve really wanted to learn how to make scrapbooks. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year.
It’s an exciting time. Fresh starts and green toupees. A new century right on their doorstep. Pine needles too. A skateboard that shouldn’t be there. A sleeping bag. A half-eaten bag of Sun Chips. All that, and a new century, right on their doorstep.
“You really think it’s an exciting time, Dad?” asks the boy as we pack Christmas away in a cardboard box that says “Gordon’s Gin” on the side.
In his hair, there are still pieces of confetti from two nights before. He’s making fun of my green toupee, and he’s got confetti for hair.
“Dad?”
“Huh?”
“You really think it’s an exciting time?”
“Never better,” I say.
“Really?” he asks.
“Really,” I say.
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Chris Erskine’s column is published on Wednesdays. His e-mail address is chris.erskine@latimes.com.
