thank you

In the last month, I have received some half dozen thank you notes, mostly from daughters’ friends who have come to a family meal here. I have to say, it’s made my heart swell.

In many ways, I may be called old school. Or old world. Or both. I love excessively good manners. In fact, I think politeness is a mere front for greater sensitivity and attentiveness to the needs of another. If a person can bother with a thank you note, don't you think that they are more likely to understand postpartum blues and menopausal hot flashes and midlife upsets?


In my office on Bascom Hill, I have a collection of thank you notes from students in years past. I keep them all on my desk, right there in front of me, as a reminder of what matters in a work day -- the effort expanded and the benefits (to the student) accrued. Now I am looking at an equally beguiling collection of thank-yous at home. On rainy days like today, you can’t ask for a hell of a lot more.





Wait – yes I can. An even better ending to a work packed day: meeting a daughter, or two on the Square for a drink. Or dinner. Or both.




Thank you, daughters!