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Show Thoughts From The Garden... by Tonya LeMone "Thank you note writing is one of the loveliest traditions to have been utterly compromised by the information age" Leslie Harpold When my father died a few years ago, I found a small box that was overflowing with notes from various people. There were notes from family members, neighbors, and co-workers, many of these people I had never met or knew nothing about. All of these handwritten notes had one common thread, they were thanking my father for kind things he had done for them in years long past. For me this was a peek into a part of my father's life I had never known. My father worked very hard to provide for our family. He was an artist in his own right. He built homes from top to bottom alone. He didn't have subs or hired help. He was a one man show. He built beautiful Cape Cod style homes in Southern California which was very unusual in the palm tree lined streets of San Clemente. We lived in every house he built. He would work on a house for a year then we would move into it and live in it until the next one was ready and the one we were living in sold. Each house was more of a work of art than the one before until he built his dream house across from the golf course, but as luck would have it, our family faced the crisis of divorce and he had to leave that dream house. My father became my soul guardian and my mother had soul guardianship over my brother, strange, indeed, but we made it work. As a single parent in the 60's and 70's, my father sacrificed much to raise me and it wasn't as socially accepted as it is today to single parent. He never did remarry before his death but made sure my aunties and grandmother taught me the things a young girl needed to learn, cooking, cleaning, canning, sewing, and, of course, gardening. My fc.cher was also very strict and never wavered on a decision, especially when I was "grounded". So, when I discovered this box of thank-you notes from people who benefited from his good works, I was caught entirely off guard. To me and many around him, he was an angry man who found happiness only in his blueberry patch, and later, a small spark was seen in his eyes when he was around his grandchildren. Because of the sweet experience I had sitting for hours reading the accolades given to a man I thought I knew, I have tried to remember to send thank-you notes for special things done or acts of kindness given to me or others. In so doing, I hope that some family member will read these notes when T t" their loved one is no longer around and realize they may have either judged or not fully recognized the goodness in someone they thought they knew. I also have saved the thank-you notes I have received, so my children will get a glimpse into something they may not know about their mother; that their mother did more than gardening. See you in the garden |