I recently came across a letter written by my grandfather to my mother. My grandfather was a writer by trade and by DNA – a trait I have inherited. I’ve heard the stories about how he would slip layers of carbon paper between airmail sheets, chronicle the day’s events, and send the original and carbon copies (you didn’t know that’s what cc stood for, did you, youngsters?) to the family. I, myself, received numerous letters full of amusing anecdotes, inquiries as to my education and health, and words of wisdom. I was overcome with a wave of déjà vu when I read this passage because it is exactly what my mother told/taught us whenever we would thank our parents for all that they did from giving us love, respect, and a good education to taking us around the world to giving us money for everlasting gobstoppers. Here’s something to consider as you give thanks on Thanksgiving:
Islamabad, 1st August, 1968
You write that you are always grateful to us for whatever we did for you. You need not say so. As long as you conduct yourself like a Muslim and in a manner such as will bring credit to the household to which you now belong and to the family of which you were a part, we shall consider that as your expression of gratitude.
Bajira! 