Every year it’s the same. The anxious feeling in my stomach that no amount of eggnog can correct – the impending knowledge that Christmas is fast approaching. Then of course comes the regret that last year I neglected to send out a memo letting everyone know that I’ll no longer be giving gifts for the holidays, that I have officially decided to start the trend of not giving gifts, that Christmas cards and wishing good cheer should be enough for all of the people in my life to still love me without my having to put down half of my already small pay check to buy their friendship, for at least until next December.
I try, I try really hard to get gifts that mean something to the person. None of this, “oh just a blue sweater for him,” or “a bottle of really nice shampoo for her.” Because my bet is that he already has a sweater, probably in all different shades of blue and doesn’t need (or want) another one. And I bet she washes her hair every day (or at least rinses) and doesn’t need a bottle of shampoo from some specialty store that costs $30 and smells like chocolate chip cookies or brown sugar. You want to wash hair, not eat it.
I’m a firm believer in the idea that gifts should have some sort of impact in a person’s life - or else you shouldn’t be giving a gift at all (frankincense and myrrh? Please).
Because what are gifts supposed to mean anyway? When you’re a kid what something means doesn’t mean anything at all, and it’s probably the greatest thing ever. All you know is that you want a bike with a banana seat (in sea-foam green, please) the latest (and most atomically offensive) Barbie, and the train-set you saw those kids on television using. Little did you know (nor did you care) just how long a thing like that can take to put together. You’re a kid, and that’s the glory of being a kid, you’re not the one who has to do anything.
I had a train set. I had wanted a train set, talked about a train set, subtly pointed out train sets, and then one year, I finally got one. My father took many laborious hours putting that thing together, making sure that the tracks held firm over the make-shift bridge, aligning all of the bending tracks with the straight ones, even setting the little pipe-cleaner looking fake trees in all of the appropriate places. I think I used that thing all day, until I finally realized around 6:00 that I’d spent the last six hours watching something go around in circles. I never used the train set again.
Now that I’m no longer a kid (sadly) the holiday just doesn’t mean what it used to. And by holiday, I mean gifts. I don’t know what to get anyone anymore. But I’ve had a good run. I’ve been giving all of the right things to all of the right people since I no longer believed in flying reindeer, cared about train sets and started getting a paycheck. And like any good thing, my reign as ultimate gift giver has come to an end.
So what does this mean? Well it means I may or may not be without friends in 2007. But that’s fine. The ones who really care will respect my decision and will thank me for not wasting my money on sweaters they don’t need and shampoo they can’t bake. Either that, or between now and December 24th I might get hit with a stroke of divine gift intervention, however I’d say that’s about as likely as my chance at getting another train set.
No comments:
Post a Comment