hand-written letters are better

I love this picture of my dad.

Today I received this note in the mail:

“This entitles you to ten (or maybe more) taxicab rides to or from your school on rainy or late days.  This amount can not be used for other purposes such as books, beer, or perfume.  Love, Dad and Krystyna”

I really don’t know what I did to deserve a dad like the one I have.  And he really is the master of the hand-written letter.  They’re normally short and sweet, like the one he sent last summer with a picture of him fishing in Alaska, a mama grisly and cub 15 yards upstream: “Check out the friends I made on vacation.”

And they’re pretty impeccably well-timed.  During a particularly rough round of finals my second year of college, I received this email (I just dug through my old UVA account to find it):

This is not just a little note to cheer you up.  This is actually a little letter that covers up a BIG ice cream sundae for you and three or ten friends during a study break.  AND, this little note covers up another one tomorrow.  You are supposed to treat all your friends, and then do it again.  And maybe again.

And there is a PS clause in this letter.  It says to buy some flowers for yourself, AND THEN, to buy some flowers for someone else.  Buy them.  Give them away.  Do it.  Have some fun.  Make someone else happy.  Feed them and give them flowers.  Then do it again.

WOW!!!  I sure feel better (and I felt pretty good to begin with).  I hope you feel better, and I hope other people feel even better.  Pass it on.  Love, Dad

BTW, this was totally Dad’s attitude toward the wedding: feed people; buy them flowers; make them happy.

Dad, I don’t know how or if I can ever pay you back.  But I can promise you that, if John and I are ever lucky enough to have kids, we will give your grandchildren the same love and support you’ve shown us.

Thank you. xoxo