Maggie Monday: Thank You

I finally contacted my aunt. "Where are the photos you promised me? And do you think you could mention to the old lady that she hasn't sent a thank you note?"

It turns out, when you are 89 years old, you remember sending notes that you didn't send. Last Thursday, my aunt called to say she had printed the pictures and was sending them for me to scan, though my uncle was going to try to send them on the computer. Then she handed my grandmother the phone so I could get a quote.

An 89-year-old with her cards.
(If you squint, you can just make out the martini glass collection on the baker's rack in the upper left.)

"You write something; you're a writer," Maggie said. But I persisted on your behalf, and we got pure Maggie gold:

I had the best birthday, as you know. All those people sent cards...all nice and friendly...from all over! 

What a lousy quote, but I'm 89 years old. I can barely walk--but I'm getting a pedicure! Then we're going for Chinese. After that we're going to the movies, of course.  

You add something. You're my granddaughter*; you're a writer. That was quite a birthday. How did you come up with that idea? You're full of ideas; you're a writer. You need to write a book.

The snail's pace with which we thanked you in no way indicates our appreciation of your kindness. Maggie and I were delighted and overwhelmed by your generosity. My aunt tells me that she made a second set of photos for my grandmother and reports that the old girl cannot stop looking at them. Pat yourselves on the back; you done good.

* in case I forgot.