From a Christmas season not so long ago.
The holiday season was fast approaching. I mentally organized what I hoped to accomplish that night: First, the Christmas cards to those who had worked with Sam in the past year. Then, package their gifts.
The cards were already selected: simple and white with a small Santa engraving –whimsically elegant with plenty of white space for Sam’s large scroll. The stock was both heavy and soft to the touch. I had chosen the cards envisioning the juxtaposition of elegance and Sam’s childish script.
I laid out the cards and like a drill sergeant directed Sam to sign them, “Love, Sam.” I was surprised by an unexpected protest.
“Want write. Want write,” he insisted. Translation: he disagreed. I groaned and thought that he was going write “underwear” all over my beautiful cards. Sam had been obsessed with writing “underwear” for the last few weeks. I was certain today would be no different. More firmly I said, “Just write Love, Sam”.
Again he refused. Looking to compromise, I found a piece of blank paper and said “OK, Sam. Write what ever you want here and later we will sign the cards with just your name.”
Sam accepted this and picked up his pen. I watched in surprise as he slowly and carefully wrote: