“Snacks”
Lately I've been ending my letters with
the word Snacks instead of Thanks. Why?, you may or may not wonder.
I got tired of writing Thanks.
Apparently I'm a needy little person, and I write emails asking folks
for stuff: do this for me, do that for me, please help me to...the
list is practically endless.
And then people write me back and say
“Okay”, or “Sorry, I can't do it”, and I have to acknowledge
that they at least understood my message, or that they got it anyway.
But “Thanks” has lost its power, at
least with me. Doesn't express the gratitude I feel toward folks who grant me a little part of their attention.
The other day the little woman and I were waiting for a seemingly interminable length of
time at some Bureaucracy. And we couldn't see what was going on, as
the door was closed, and Patty says, well, it's about 11 a.m., so
they're probably having cookies and milk and now they're gonna unroll
their little towels and lie down on the floor for naptime. So that
should only take another fifteen minutes.
Something about that image appealed to
me: the idea of harassed government workers having a scheduled little
break, just like in daycare. So they wouldn't get cranky. A good idea, I thought, reminding myself
to always have a towel with me in case I need to lie down somewhere.
So then I decided to end my letters
more pleasantly, and the daycare image having taken hold, I choose
now to end my letters more sweetly . More childlike. A word that is
more warm and friendly, more evocative of the gratitude I feel
toward those who have written me back, a word that in and of itself
suggests the goodness of childhood.
Snacks
Panama
you do have the magic pen:))--sweetsnacks baby:)!
ReplyDeleteSnacks to you, too. I love you.
ReplyDeleteLikewise, as you know...
Deletesnacks to you as well
I recall the first time we actually met, which was in 1965. I was new at the Old Beaux, brought in by Johnson. One of those evenings, I was headed out to the garden through the back porch screen door. You were headed in at the same time. I never knew what had just transpired in the garden; but on the threshold, you stopped mid-stride and said earnestly, "Don't you wish there were some kind of hope somehow?" I've come to believe that your vision -- the way you see things -- IS that hope. This beleaguered, recently retired State-government worker wishes you sweet snacks too and sends gratitude for your empathy. Love you much, hermano! (Nice new Web page! But I miss the tie-die.)
ReplyDeleteLlyn