My friend Mike, like myself, turned 60 this year (it’s only
been days for me, and I’m still processing the farewell to my fabulous
fifties). Mike wrote letters to 60 people who had influenced his life (yup, 60
letters!) I was very touched to receive one of those letters (I taught his
daughters in Confirmation class, and they went on quite a few mission trips
with me).
I determined that I, too, would pen special notes, one for each year
of my life. Though I realize the hand-written missive is usually more meaningful,
in my case the recipient would not have a clue what I had said to them, such is
my penmanship these days. So—I’d type them on my computer. That was the ticket!
I began to make a list of the 60 lucky folks who would unexpectedly hear from
me. My high school French teacher! My first grade best friend! A fellow actor
from my dinner theatre days! They would be thrilled to know that they had been fondly
remembered by a middle-aged woman in Pennsylvania! Wouldn’t they??
Then reality sunk in. Who am I kidding? Writing (always
belated) thank you notes for gifts is the extent of my non-electronic correspondence—and
those only because our mom drilled the etiquette into us. I gave up on individual
Christmas card notes years ago, and can’t bring myself to pay postage for
Yuletide greetings simply signed, illegibly, with my name. “Who do we know
named Elsa? Elijah? Elliott?” I imagine the puzzled queries of my friends as
they try to decipher my handwriting.
This heartwarming project is, alas, probably not going to
happen. But maybe…maybe I could do a much briefer version of Mike’s tributes. I
could tweet about my honored people! Short and sweet!
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| Mo and I ready for Sister Mary Frances' musical extravaganza! |
The meanest kid in elementary school: Peggy C., thank you
for toughening me up! I needed the exercise of running home, sobbing, after you
banished me from your house.
My ambitious choir director: Sister Mary Frances, from
you I learned that 26 solos in an 8th grade concert is about 20 too
many, especially if one is the theme from “Gone with the Wind.”
The violinist who stood us up at our wedding: Thank you “Itzhak
Perlman”! The processional sounded pretty strange without you, but the money we
saved paid for the gas between Atlanta and our NYC honeymoon.
The hairdresser who gave me that hideous perm: Appreciated the
special “do,” Donna! I looked just like a life sized Shirley Temple doll. Every
35 year old woman’s dream.
And so on. My favorite bus driver...my niece with the
seven (God love her) children.. shout-outs to them all! Now, if you’ll excuse
me, I’m on a roll here. Gratitude abounds, 140 characters at a time. 60 tweets
or bust!
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| The exact moment I realized my wedding violinist was a no-show |
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