Published in the Globe and Mail, Facts and Arguments Essay, Dec 23, 2004
So this is Christmas, and the only thing that may make this season less than holly-jolly for me is the burgeoning question: how many thank-you notes will I have to write this year? Judging from the fact that our small house, in early December, was already teeming with gifts, due mainly to our six-month-old son, I would guess a lot.
I say “have to write” because I do not believe that anyone really enjoys writing thank-you notes. Even those of us who still enjoy corresponding by snail mail would rather not write the obligatory notes. Indeed, the thank-you note burden has been weighing on my shoulders my entire life, and it all hearkens back to my childhood. With such rapturous joy would we rip open our presents – be it Christmas or birthday – only to be told by our mother, “Not so fast. I need to write it down so you don’t forget to write a thank-you note.” And as soon as the last present had been opened: “Now you’d better get started on those notes.” Even Santa was in on it. He would undoubtedly provide my sister and me with pretty note paper every year, “so there will be no excuses,” my mother would say, nodding in wicked agreement with Santa’s good sense. I often wondered why my friends never received such a gift from Saint Nick.
There are many questions which one may struggle with when writing thank-you notes. For example, if the gift-bearers themselves do not subscribe to the thank-you-note culture, do they still deserve a pretty note in the mail from me? According to my mother, the answer is a resounding “Yes!” If there is anything the woman is unflinching about, it is her view on the importance of thank-you notes. She once sent a wedding gift to a family friend and months later was still waiting for a note. She harped on the disgrace of it every day, and we thought we’d never hear the end of it until about two years later when the negligent bride finally heard, likely through a distant cousin thrice removed, of my mother’s vendetta against her. A letter of thanks and apology finally wound up in our mail box.
Another question I’ve struggled with is this: Why is that men do not seem bound by the thank-you note? Is it simply because men don’t care? Are they ignorant? Did they not receive pretty note paper in their stocking each Christmas, as I did? Perhaps not. I have never seen my father write a thank-you note (I certainly have never received one from him), and my husband, as far as I know, has written only one thank you note in his life, and he did it grudgingly, half-glaring at me for forcing him to perform such a silly task.
My husband does, however, have a point when he asks, “What is the point in giving a gift if you require a special thank-you note afterwards? Isn’t the point of Christmas in the giving, rather than in the thank you?” Arguably, that’s true. All those Christmas church services were about giving, not thanking. God gave us Jesus (if you believe such a thing) and didn’t require a thank-you note, did He? The only thank-you that God requires from us is our happiness, right? And then we spread that happiness to other people and the world becomes a marvellous place, right? If that’s all the thank you God needs, shouldn’t we try to emulate His divinity?
And what about Santa Claus, who for many symbolizes God’s gift of life? When I was growing up, Santa was the only person who didn’t require a thank-you note (although he never forgot to give us that pretty note paper.) Is Santa a better person than the rest of us, who do require pretty notes of thanks? Is Santa the only one who understands the real meaning of Christmas?
I’m not arguing that we should never say thank-you, but the notes on pretty paper do seem rather outdated. I suppose thank-you notes began in the days when the mail was not as reliable as it is now. It was necessary to send a few words to the gift-bearers to let them know that you actually did receive their present, and that it did not fall off the sleigh while trotting over the river and through the woods, and hey, why not say thank-you at the same time? But now, we have telephones, cell phones, text messaging, and email. The pretty note paper is nice, but it’s hardly functional anymore.
I know what my mother will say. It’s not the same thing. Technology cannot produce a real thank you. It can only be done through a hand-written note. (Hand-written, mind you – not typed. How impersonal!)
It seems there is only one thing to be done then. I’d better get to the stationery store to pick up some of that pretty note paper. You never know – Santa Claus might forget to put it in my stocking this year, and then, well, I’d never hear the end of it…