Bud Grossmann’s Words of the Week for the Week of January 6, 2019 Published as a Gramma Letter dated January 9, 1996. © 1996, 2019 by Bud Grossmann. All Rights Reserved.   Lights (2019) © 2019 by Bud Grossmann LET YOUR LIGHTS SO SHINE Tuesday, January 9, 1996 Dear Gramma,       For most folks, and for Wisconsin folks more than most, I have long thought, it is not easy to say, “Thank you” or “Good job!”       Across the street from Columbia County Manor, where you live, in Wyocena, Wisconsin, is a white, wood-frame house on a lot with a few trees and shrubs, a dog pen, and a garage. Or so I remember it. When I visited you last month, I drove past that house each day and evening. It had Christmas lights on the outside, facing The Manor.       I cannot precisely remember the lights—whether or not they blinked, whether they were all on the house or also strung out to trees and bushes. But I remember seeing them as I sat with you at night, in The Manor’s lounge next to the dining room. Looking out the big windows toward the parking lot, you were hoping for more visitors to arrive. The colors of the Christmas lights streamed across the ice and snow. “There comes a car,” you announced. “And another one.”       “Gramma, you see car lights pretty well. Can you see the colored lights on the house across the street?”       You peered out into the distance. “Oh, I guess not.” So I described them to you. Florence Thompson, in her wheelchair, sat with us most evenings. Florence could see the lights without my narration, and several times she sighed contentedly, “Gee, those lights are pretty!”       I wondered if the people across the way realized what pleasure they were giving to Florence and to others. I should tell them, I thought.       But I drove by the house again and again, and I found an excuse each time not to stop. It’s too late at night—I’ll scare someone if I knock. And the next morning, If I visit these folks now, I might miss lunch with Granny. A day or two later, It’s too cold today—these people won’t want to open their door and let in the winter winds for so trivial a message.       Meanwhile, each day, people at The Manor were surprising me with “trivial messages” of warm encouragement. “Your mother is very fortunate, having you visit every day,” your roommate, Vera Danielson, whispered weakly while she firmly gripped my hand.       “Well, thank you, Vera!” I replied. “Alice is my grandmother, you know. She is lucky, too, for having so sweet a roommate as you.”       Nurses called me “a good grandson.” When you and I visited friends around The Manor, everywhere we went, we received smiles and friendly greetings. Maybe I was wrong, after all, in thinking that Wisconsin people are frugal in dispensing gratitude and praise.       On New Year’s Eve, the last day of my visit, I enjoyed the noon meal with you and then headed back to my parents’ house to pack my suitcase. As I left The Manor, I saw a car pulling into the driveway of the house with the lights. I pulled in behind it, stopped, and got out of my borrowed truck. “Do you live here?” I asked the man in the car.       “My parents do,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously.       “Give them a message, if you will,” I said. “Tell them a guy from Hawaii—that’s me—has been visiting his grandmother over at The Manor, and all week people have been saying what a wonderful sight these Christmas lights are.”       “Well, my folks’ll be glad to hear that,” said the man. “I bet they’ll put up even more, then, next year!”       “Good! Great! I just wanted to let them know they were bringing some joy to people. I thought I’d say something in case nobody else has gotten around to stopping by.”       “Oh, no,” scoffed the man, “I don’t think so. Nobody around here’s gonna say nothin’ like that!”       I laughed, wished a Happy New Year to him and his family, and headed east on County G. As I drove, I noticed perhaps the winter’s ice was thawing.       Bye for now.                                     Love,                                     Buddy         ARCHIVES         Click for a list of other Words of the Week I would welcome your thoughts on this page (or any of my others).  Write to me at the following address.  Please be sure to spell Grossmann with two n’s and mention what page you are writing about. Thanks!  BUD GROSSMANN Top of this page | HOME | Fine Photography | Picture of the Day | Writings | | Words of the Week | Mom & Pop Prop. Mgt. | FAQ |

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