Giving thanks always in season

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

The thing about a thank-you note, says my friend Anne, who is the Dalai Lama of thank-you notes, who returns home after a quiet day with a friend and writes, ``I had the BEST time! Let's not wait so long to do this again,'' is that it has to be written immediately, while the moment is fresh. No putting off until tomorrow what should be done today. A thank-you note, like a popover, is best served fresh.

Not long ago, I sent Anne flowers to thank her for something - my thank you, of course, as stale as bread crumbs. ``Thank you for watching my children, when was it? In the spring of '84?'' And the next day, what did I get in the mail? Two pictures of the flowers - front view, back view - tucked in a note that said, ``I LOVE them!! Thank you.''

For real.

Ten weeks ago, a friend invited my then very pregnant daughter and me to his restaurant. ``Come over. Have a nice meal with Audrey and me. Relax. We'll have a good time.'' And we did. So why didn't I write and tell him this, Anne style? Pronto.

Well, I intended to. But I was staying with my daughter and her husband at the time, and I didn't have a card. And every time I thought about getting one, I went crazy instead. The cards were too sappy, too simple. The line was too long. The store was too hot. There was always a reason I returned to their apartment empty-handed.

And then my daughter had the baby. And we got busy. And then I went home. And then she and her husband moved from New York to Boston. And then the thank-you note was so belated that I thought we should include a picture of the baby with the card. So I took a whole roll of pictures. And then I lost the film.

I couldn't make this up.

Finally, yesterday, I wrote the note, found a photo and dropped it in the mail.

Many years ago I interviewed the comedian Orson Bean. He asked me to send him a copy of what I wrote. I did, and about two years later, I got a thank-you note from him. Of all the thank-you notes I've received from anyone other than Anne, his is the one that stands out.

Which make me wonder. What exactly is the etiquette with thank-you notes? When is it too late to say, I'm sorry . . . but? Or is it never too late? Are late and confused acceptable? ``I think I thanked you, but I'm not sure. Maybe I only thought about thanking you. So just in case I didn't thank you when I thought I did, I'm thanking you now.''

``This is why you have to do it right away,'' Anne tells me.

Right away was my goal two weeks ago. I'd been to a party. I had a blank card. And I had an address.

But it was a work address and it was a huge workplace, and what if the card didn't get there? I needed a home address.

``Mail it to the work address,'' Anne said.

I called information. I Googled. I phoned a friend. A week passed.

``Mail it to the work address,'' Anne said.

I started to write the card, but what should I call this person? Mrs.? Ms.? Teddy? Teddie? Tedi?

I phoned a mutual friend. ``It's Tedi,'' she said.

The card was too big for the envelope. All the envelopes in the new box of cards were too small.

It should be such a simple thing, writing a note of thanks. Pen, paper, a stamp, ``Thank you very much'' and it's done. Except it isn't simple. Nothing ever is.