This has nothing much to do with writing for publication.
It is not intended to open the Thank-You-Note can of worms.
Though I will relate it to a book I read when I first called myself a writer. (And please click the title for a terrific take on that book, MAKING A LITERARY LIFE.)
Lately, I don't care too much about the beautiful stationery (though I did get a laugh when a great Southern friend just emailed me a nice note and attached a picture of her mostly unused, engraved notecards). But I do appreciate an acknowledgment, either verbal or penned or emailed, that a gift I labored over-- maybe even wrongly chose but I tried-- made it through the vagaries of a delivery system and arrived safe and sound.
This one made my day. My first thank you from my Nephew Dog. He liked my holiday chew toy.
(What I've just read: Joan Bauer's Close to Famous)