Skip to main content

The Power of a Thank-You Note

In this episode, The Power of a Thank-You Note . . .

Halloween night is a time for spooky fun and neighborhood camaraderie. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets, neighbors emerged from their homes, transforming their driveways into festive candy stations.

A familiar face caught my eye as I strolled around the neighborhood, taking in the sights and chitchatting with the neighbors. It was a neighbor I hadn't spoken to in years, a young mother whose daughter had interviewed me for a school project on gemstones and the GIA in 2014.

As I approached her, a spark of nostalgia ignited. "So, how old is your daughter now?" I asked, curious about her journey.

"She's 23," she replied, a smile spreading across her face. "She's studying architecture now."

I was taken aback. "That can't be possible," I exclaimed. "It feels like she interviewed me for her school project just yesterday."

Time had simply flown by unnoticed, and a mere decade had transformed a curious young girl into a budding architect. As we continued our conversation, I couldn't help but reflect on the countless moments that had slipped through my fingers.

Later that evening, as the trick-or-treaters dwindled, I saw this young woman returning home from work. Perhaps it was bold, but I approached her and crossed the street. With a smile, I handed her the thank-you note she had written years ago. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she recognized her handwriting. "I can't believe you still have this!" she exclaimed.

I explained that I had kept it, a reminder of a simple act of kindness that had rippled through time. A soft smile spread across her face as she reread the note. "Wow, thank you for keeping this," she said. "It's really special."

At that moment, I recognized the incredible power of small gestures. A quick interaction, a handwritten note, a shared memory—these threads weave the beautiful tapestry of life.

Often, the most cherished moments are the ones we least expect.

No trick, just treats.

I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening. See you in the next episode.

Comments

Don Hanley said…
Thanks, Patrick, it is a wonderful reminder to all of us.

Most Popular of All Time

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

A Holiday Reflection–Mother's Love

In this episode,  How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...

Stamps and Snow

In this episode, Stamps and Snow . . .   You don’t usually walk into the local Post Office expecting a time warp . . . but here we are. All we wanted were stamps for this year's Christmas cards— yes, the old-fashioned paper ones that require licking, sticking, and hoping the Postal Service is feeling ambitious this week. But holiday errands have a talent for slowing you down, almost like the universe whispering, “Relax. You’re not getting out of this line any faster anyway.” So we waited. And while we waited, we talked (Are you surprised?). Because the Post Office is one of the few places where people still look up from their phones long enough to talk . . . Maybe it's because they're holding packages. It’s the modern town square: part civic duty, part free entertainment, part sociology experiment. The discussion began with holiday specials streaming on Netflix, Paramount+, and other services during this time of year. One gentleman who has lived in Vista since 1958 told us,...