My mother was known for her easy-going, mild mannered disposition, except when it came to one thing.   Thank-you notes.

Then, she became Atilla the Hun, or one of those nuns, raising a ruler overhead to deliver the sharp whack on the knuckles.  Ferocious. Militant. The rule was—-a note went out (correct grammar and spelling, of course) within a week of receipt of the gifts.  No excuses.

Call me old fashioned, now—-but I still like getting a note—via snail mail.  Seeing real, live handwriting from someone who took the time to care—-and who might have even gone to the trouble to pick out a special stamp—-still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.   

Don’t get me wrong—when I am in a rush, I will send a thank-you via email.  But, I always feel guilty afterward.  It’s not just my mother’s historic “tsk-tak” ringing in my ear but my own desire to continue the tradtions of civility.  No matter what, I don’t believe high tech, with the most cleverly designed e-cards, will ever replace the high touch feeling of opening a card with someone’s heartfelt message written in their own hand inside.  Emails are a way of acknowledging people, no question.  But notes and cards, sent through the mail touch us with something extra.  No?

I guess the point really is—to remember to say THANKS—-no matter how it gets done.  The first week of the year, is almost over y’know.  Do I sound like my mother?