logo
Have we forgotten how to say thank you?

Have we forgotten how to say thank you?

For me, the daughter of small business owners, winter and the holidays meant more family time at the dining table, not just to eat but to handwrite thank you notes to our customers.
My brother would climb up to the attic to bring down bins full of greeting cards my mother and I had purchased the previous year after Christmas, when the holiday clearance sections at local stores offered boxes and boxes of them for 75% off.
My father, a mechanic, would come home from a long, hard day of work at his auto repair shop, change out of his clothes and pick up a pen with his cracked, chapped hands to spend the last few hours of the day writing thanks.
Thank you for being our customer. Thank you for trusting us with your car. Thank you for your loyalty.
I was as young as 10 or 11 when I joined this tradition. At that age, my penmanship was not very impressive, but that was never the point. The point was to take time to communicate our gratitude in writing.
I now teach writing at Harvard, a place where no one seems to have enough time. Students are always running out of it: They need more time to study, research, write and meet deadlines. Teachers are always wishing they had more of it. If only we had more time to return papers, more time to conference with students.
In a place where there's never enough time, it's easy to lose small gestures like thanking someone in writing, even in a writing class.
So when an opportunity presented itself, I took it. My class had two sessions outside of our usual classroom. The first was at Lamont Library, where we learned how to conduct research. The second was at the Harvard Art Museums, where we went on a tour to help us start thinking about art and objects as primary sources. Of course, we thanked both the librarian and the research curator in person and offered a round of applause at the end of each class. But I found it important to also thank our instructors in writing.
The following week, I walked to CVS in Harvard Square to pick up two thank you cards so that students could write in them. I was shocked, first by how few thank you cards there were (I saw just three on a wall full of birthday, baby and wedding cards) and second, by the options available for purchase. One card simply stated: 'Thank You for Being My Person.'
According to the Greeting Card Assn., Americans purchase around 6.5 billion cards each year. Unsurprisingly, birthday cards make up more than half of those sales. But thank you cards rank at third place, making the lack of options I encountered all the more confusing.
What I thought would be a five-minute errand resulted in me scurrying from one store to another for the next hour, desperately seeking a decent card.
Of course, I could have purchased a 'blank inside' card, but the absence of designated thank you cards troubled me. It felt like a sign that we don't know who to thank and what to thank them for.
Have we stopped thanking people? Do we do it by email or text now? Has it become too complicated in our technology-driven world to search for and buy a card, write by hand and then give or mail it to someone? Or have we simply stopped being thankful?
Perhaps my Harvard Square experience is an anomaly. But even so, it's worth paying attention to: If gratitude is missing in a college town, what lessons could we expect our students to pass on to future generations?
My parents taught me early on that there is a difference between saying thank you and writing thanks. The spoken thank you is fleeting — not to say that it's meaningless, but extending thanks in writing makes it more intentional, more thoughtful, a sort of archived gratitude that doesn't expire, a moment you could return to.
In the end, it was at Bob Slate Stationer, a small business in Harvard Square, where I finally found a vibrant selection of thank you cards to choose from. The one I selected stated, 'I want to thank you in writing.' With a Sharpie, I turned the 'I' into a 'We,' and asked my students to spend the last few minutes of our class writing thanks. Some wrote brief notes while others wrote thank you in their native languages, including Ukrainian and Choctaw.
I'm not your writing teacher, but I have a suggestion for you. The next time someone does you a solid, take a moment to slow down. Go looking for a thank you card and write to them. They might seem small, these businesses, these moments, these gestures, this lesson. But the bigger picture looks less promising without them.
Taleen Mardirossian was raised in Torrance and currently lives in Cambridge, where she teaches writing at Harvard University. She is working on a collection of essays about the body and identity.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

7 Years Into my Marriage, I Finally Stopped Expecting the Worst
7 Years Into my Marriage, I Finally Stopped Expecting the Worst

Cosmopolitan

time6 hours ago

  • Cosmopolitan

7 Years Into my Marriage, I Finally Stopped Expecting the Worst

Sometimes, I try to remember when I became afraid of believing it would all be okay. I assume it was when I was a small child and things rarely seemed to work in my favor. I've had therapists suggest this is rooted in early mistrust of my caretakers (feasible) or lingering trauma from a marching-band–related incident (not impossible but much less feasible). My single mother worked hard, but as the eldest sibling of four kids, holidays were typically disappointing for me, and worse, my birthday landed two weeks after Christmas... and two days after my much cuter baby sister's. It felt like a cosmic setup. The chronic disappointment was torturous, so I opted out. I wouldn't need to stop crying over another heartbreaking near-miss if I just chose to never again expect to get what I want. As an adult, I started dating my now-husband, Kelly, in college during our last year of living on campus in Muncie, Indiana, but I refused to call him my boyfriend. Our first date had been wonderful, but within weeks of four-wheeling, skeet shooting, talking, kissing, and revealing our amorous intentions toward each other, he found out he'd been accepted into an arts internship in New York City. In a matter of months, he'd be sharing a room in a brownstone turned dormitory, working with poets and other writers, professionals in the industry we both hoped to be employed in someday. I was happy for him—I even helped him celebrate the news—but I also assumed it meant that whatever flame flickered between us would soon die out. Typical, I thought, just as I was realizing how much I wanted him. But it didn't make sense to me that two people in their early 20s would make a risky commitment right as one of them prepared to start building a life in the most exciting city in the world. It wasn't low self-esteem; I just knew I wasn't that lucky. I told Kelly we should break it off. He said, 'But I really want to keep spending time together.' And even though I was certain it was a bad idea, I agreed. We spent the rest of the semester sharing meals, throwing parties, attending literary readings, throwing literary readings that were also parties, sleeping together, laughing together, and, in doing so, falling in love in a way I refused to accept. Our time felt limited, so I tried to cherish it, knowing it might never be this way again. Knowing I might not ever be this happy with anyone else. But at least I hadn't fooled myself into thinking this would be forever, a consolation as disappointing as it was unsatisfying. When the time came for him to leave our little college town, we parted on great terms. Still, I sobbed for days, convinced I would never see him again. It was almost two years after the first lap around one another's hearts that Kelly came back for me. He'd left New York once his internship ended and moved with a friend to Seattle. I'd left our college town and moved to Indianapolis. He called and asked if he could come to my apartment and say hello. I was excited to see him but also determined not to get my hopes up about rekindling our romance. I'd worked to convince myself to move him firmly into the Friend Category, no matter what my heart told me. I didn't want to want him. No, that's not true. I didn't want to lose him because of how much I wanted him. When I answered his knock, a controlled smile donned like armor, he took my face in his hands and bent down to kiss me. When the kiss ended, he looked me in the eyes and asked, 'Are you seeing anybody?' I shook my head before taking his hand and bringing him inside. Getting what I wanted felt unfamiliar, especially when what or who I wanted wanted me back. I didn't expect him to stay with me that night. I didn't think he meant it when he said he wanted to try again with intention. But he did. We went on like this, me expecting this time to be the last time and him continuing to show up anyway. I'm ashamed to say I tested him. Before I'd agree to be in a real relationship, I laid myself bare. I told him what I wanted from my life and what I wanted from a partner. Love, support, encouragement, accountability, loyalty—all of it. I thought the details would scare him off. He responded, 'I'm not everything you want or need—yet. But I believe I can be.' When I then told him I had gotten a job offer in New York and would be moving there, I expected him to remind me that he never wanted to live in New York again and that our relationship couldn't sustain an even longer distance from each other. I prepared my heart to break. But he said, 'I'll meet you in New York.' When my dear grandmother passed away three weeks after Kelly moved from Seattle into my Brooklyn apartment, he told me everything was going to be okay and held me when I woke up from grief-induced nightmares. He sat at the far end of my desk while I wrote about hard things so I didn't have to be alone. He nursed me back to health, physically and emotionally, on numerous occasions and insisted I seek and receive help for my mental health. And while neither of us ever had grand designs on marriage, three years after moving across the country so I could live my dreams, he proposed. I said yes, and I meant it, but I still waited for that hovering other shoe to drop. In the darkest corners of my mind, I left room for my old friend Disappointment. I waited to feel stuck or unsure or abandoned. I waited for what felt familiar. Those feelings never bloomed. And trust me, I looked for them: Most days since we got married, seven years ago this September, I've wondered if I'm walking headfirst into the biggest letdown of my existence. Is that seven year itch going to show up now? How easy is it to know if you're falling out of love? Does the fact that I'm still having so much fun with my husband even mean anything? What I've ultimately decided is that those are moot questions. If I'm honest with myself, the worrying and avoidance have never saved me from disappointment, not even once. They've only been tools I used to rob myself of the excitement and joy I've always been entitled to. At some point, I have to decide that the pleasure of my marriage is sweeter than the anticipation of bitterness. In fact, I'll make that decision now. Because that's what I truly want.

Asking Eric: I would prefer visiting by phone and emails
Asking Eric: I would prefer visiting by phone and emails

Chicago Tribune

time9 hours ago

  • Chicago Tribune

Asking Eric: I would prefer visiting by phone and emails

Dear Eric: My wife recently passed away and I am doing OK. Several of my wife's senior children keep wanting to come and visit me. How do I politely say no without hurting their feelings? When they have come before, I was stressed as to how to entertain them for a week. They think I am being helped by their visit but actually I would prefer visiting by phone and emails. Any suggestions? – No Visitors Yet Dear Visitors: I'm sorry for the loss of your wife. This kind of grief – recent and all-encompassing – can be very hard and we have to take it day-by-day. Loved ones are often at a loss for how to meaningfully help. So, a kind directness is going to be your best friend here. Tell the kids the truth: you love them, but you don't have the capacity right now. Tell them that phone calls and emails are really what will help you the most right now. Sometimes people need to be given a little guidance for how to show up. They'll appreciate the nudge, and you'll all have better, less stressful (virtual) visits. Dear Eric: Our daughter-in-law recently turned 40, and they had a large party, to celebrate, at their house. We were not invited but were asked to take care of their dog while they went to a family camp for a week prior to the party. We have had a somewhat contentious relationship over the years, but I thought we were doing so much better recently. We both feel hurt at having been excluded. Do you think we should just let it go? We're feeling a bit used! – Not the Dogsitters Dear Dogsitters: I understand your hurt but, thinking generously, it's possible that your daughter-in-law considered asking you to help with their dog to be a way of including you. It certainly could read as a peace offering; she wouldn't ask someone she still has hard feelings about to care for a beloved pet. See if you can bring up your feelings in a way that doesn't feel charged. Think of it as a temperature check. When repairing a relationship, we often have to overcommunicate to make sure everyone is on the same page. Dear Eric: Even typing this makes me seem ungrateful, but here we go. My husband is a gift-giver; it is how he shows his love. He is also a collector of many things (as is the rest of his family) and I am not. I am a practical person by nature. Sometimes his gifts are too numerous or just impractical (for example, he gives me a gift every day of December as an 'Advent calendar'). The fact of the matter is, I don't need or want all these gifts despite them being thoughtful and sweet. This is not just a Christmas event, it is for my birthday, Valentine's Day, Easter, our anniversary, etc. I have tried saying that I don't need all these things, but he says that he enjoys looking for them and giving them to me. How can we strike a compromise? I don't want to hurt his feelings, and our marriage is strong aside from this issue. – Too Many Gifts Dear Gifts: It might seem to some to be a champagne problem, but too much champagne can be a real problem. There are two sides to gift giving: the intention and the impact. Generally, I think it does everyone a lot of good to weigh the intention more than the impact. Or, more simply, it's the thought that counts. But in your case the impact – an accumulation of thoughtful things that you don't need – is crowding out the intention. First, what's the way that you like to show and be shown love? That's important here. If there are ways to divert your husband's energies so that he still gets joy from giving but you also get joy from getting, it's a win all around. However, if you prefer acts of service, for instance, and he loves to have something tangible to wrap and bestow, you're still going to be a bit misaligned. In that case, you might try talking with him specifically about practicality. Sure, it might not initially light his heart up to go shopping for a new set of silverware or a replacement printer, for instance, he'll come around when he sees you actually using and enjoying the gifts. A conversation is a great place to start, but a list will also be helpful here. You might also suggest that he look for things that you both can enjoy together. Maybe it's a board game, maybe it's something less tangible, like an excursion or a date night. By broadening his concept of a good gift, while narrowing the definition of a good gift , you'll find yourselves aligned more.

Emancipation Day talk to highlight Haldimand's Black history
Emancipation Day talk to highlight Haldimand's Black history

Hamilton Spectator

timea day ago

  • Hamilton Spectator

Emancipation Day talk to highlight Haldimand's Black history

Free on Friday? Heritage Haldimand invites the public to an Emancipation Day gathering that explores Haldimand County's ties to the Underground Railroad. Emancipation Day refers to the declaration of the end of slavery in the British Empire in 1834. In the United States, some African-Americans fleeing slavery took refuge in Canfield, a hamlet in Haldimand where Black and European settlers lived harmoniously, according to local historian Sylvia Weaver. 'Canfield was a special place,' Weaver told The Spectator in an earlier interview. She described how Black, Scottish and Irish inhabitants 'worked side by side' to clear the land. 'They lived together, went to school together, went to church together,' Weaver said. 'They were all equal and they got along.' The story of one of Ontario's oldest Black settlements is told in ' Canfield Roots, ' a documentary by Haldimand filmmaker Graeme Bachiu. Friday's free Emancipation Day event runs from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Canfield Community Hall at 50 Talbot Rd. The centrepiece of the program is a talk by historian Rochelle Bush, a descendant of Samuel Cooper, the first Black settler to make Haldimand his new home. Bush will tell stories of the Cooper and Street families, some of whom are buried in a historic cemetery in Canfield for Haldimand's earliest Black settlers. In an earlier interview, Bush said the African-Americans who came north to Canfield were authors of their own liberation and should be referred to as 'freedom seekers' rather than runaway or escaped slaves. 'They were self-emancipated (and) found their way to British soil, where they could find freedom,' Bush said. Haldimand's fourth annual Emancipation Day celebration 'serves as an opportunity to reflect on the history of slavery in Canada, acknowledge the contributions of Black Canadians and address ongoing systemic anti-Black racism,' the county said in a press release. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store