A Lesson in Gratitude

I learned the importance of thank you the hard way. Not more than six or seven years old, I was sitting on the bottom bunk, a queen-sized futon, with my boom box, still plugged in, uncomfortably on my lap, waiting in anticipation. Then it happened… I hit record. A few minutes later I had my very own copy of Michael Jackson’s Black or White.

It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. And, the kid from across the street and I could finally perfect the dance moves we’d been working out. It was just a few days before Christmas, which meant both of our families would be expanding, and we were committed to putting on a show.

My grandma was the first to arrive, which meant she’d have to suffer through rehearsal after rehearsal. Bless her heart, she seemed to love every minute of it, watching us jump aimlessly around the driveway. Impressed with our moves, but unimpressed with the quality of our music, there was no way she was going to let the show proceed with a recording pulled from the radio.

Walking out of Target with a Michael Jackson cassette tape in one hand and my grandma’s hand in the other, I was on top of the world. Not only was this my first tape, but I was convinced I had just maneuvered my way into an extra Christmas present. At that age, quantity is much more important than quality, and my tally had just increased by one.

The feeling didn’t last…

Barely through the first song, my dad came out and told me to grab the tape and get in the car. We were headed back to Target to return the first tape I’d ever owned. I couldn’t believe it and demanded an explanation. My pleas were met with deafening silence… I sat anxiously, unsure of what I’d done or how much trouble I was in. Finally, once the car was parked, my dad methodically turned around and said, “You didn’t say thank you.”

I was devastated. Thinking this was like the time he left me at the baseball field after a worse-than-usual temper tantrum, only to return a few minutes later, I spewed an endless onslaught of thank yous, gasping for air with tears streaming down my cheeks, desperately trying to make up for my omission and prove I’d learned my lesson. It didn’t work. This time was different… he didn’t budge. There would be no tape, or show. I haven’t danced to Black or White since.

All these years later and those five words remain etched in my conscious. No matter how little you have, or how busy you might find yourself, gratitude is something we have in endless supply, and can dispense at any time with two simple words. Which brings me to my current predicament…

I’m not entirely sure when it happened, but, like most people, I reached a point where I started to enjoy giving gifts much more so than receiving them. I like to do nice things for people, and do so because I can and want to, not because I expect something in return. But it does feel good when the gesture is acknowledged with a simple thank you. A note, a call… even a ‘TY’via text is acceptable.

It’s more than how it makes me feel though, I believe gratitude, or the lack thereof, speaks to one’s character. Much like when someone replies to an email and spells my name with a ‘k’. If you can’t be bothered to confirm the spelling of my name, or say thank you, I can’t be bothered to invest anything more into our relationship.

And here I find myself, feeling hypocritical, doubting whether I should abandon a relationship with someone very important to me because they have all but refused to say thank you. Many people have advised me to just forgo any future gifts, or meals, or anything that requires me to take out my wallet, but salvage the relationship nonetheless. Maybe. But I’m struggling to wrap my head around this idea of continued emotional investment in someone who is no longer deserving of my seemingly far-less-valuable monetary gestures.

There is no right decision… whatever the outcome, there will no doubt be a void.

I’m learning, or realizing, we only have so much of anything to give. Inherently, we create our own methodology for determining how we allocate our time, money, energy, love, kindness, wisdom, experience. For me, and I’m guessing many others, the key to everything we have to give is two words… eight letters. Say thank you. There’s no more important lesson to learn.