The Art of the Gift

Measured by anticipation, nothing outranked Christmas for us eight kids. Not our birthday, not Halloween (though it came the closest), not Easter, not Fourth of July. Christmas was the big kahuna of ritual celebrations we looked forward to.

It was totally selfish. "What will I be getting?" was our only focus. And we not only wanted as much as we could get, but also wanted to make absolutely certain no sibling got more than we did. So with one eye on our own presents as we ripped them open, the other eye gawked and measured everyone else's gifts and did a quick "value comparison" just in case a protest had to be mounted.

All gifts were hidden before Christmas in various places in the house (we found some, guessed some, and were surprised by some), and then wrapped and placed in the living room under and around the tree after we went to bed Christmas Eve.

Mom and Dad locked the living room door after setting out the gifts, and warned that anyone found sneaking in would be placed last in line to open their gifts. That threat kept us out until after church Christmas morning. As time went on, we were permitted to open one gift before church, and, eventually, all gifts were opened at the crack of dawn Christmas Day.

In less than 15 minutes, all gifts were opened - gift wrap spread everywhere - and we were busy either playing with our favorites or trying to get a sibling to permit us to play with one of theirs.

AS we aged, we did start spending money and time choosing gifts for others, and, like with most immature gift-givers, we either bought for others what we wanted ourselves or spent way too much on gifts not well thought out.

There were a few gifts (so very few) that stood the test of time, and one of my proudest moments was when a three-foot tall carved wood and blown glass hourglass (cost: $40 back in 1965) that I gave mom and dad was immediatley out to use as a side table next to an easy chair in the living room.

It stayed in use there for more than 33 years. I finally reclaimed it after Dad starting getting rid of stuff in the family home after mom moved out, when I was in my late forties. It still spilled sand from one chamber to the other - and had been used for all those years, mostly to h old an ash tray full of cigarette butts. Yep, that was my best gift to others ever, in terms of being useful.

Funny how important getting gifts was back then, and I bet none of us (or anyone of you reading this) can name even a few Christmas gifts from childhood. Oh, everyone can recall a couple - for whatever reason, but hardly anyone can name more than three. Three! Of the hundreds of gifts received - so very few are remembered. What did you get for Christmas 10 years ago ? Five ? Three? Last year ? Point made.

Yet funny again how I recall more than several of the gifts I gave to others. A wooden sculpture of my grandmother's name (given to her in the late '60s), a pair of earrings for my mother, a brass baseball and plaque for Dad, an ashtray for Grandpa, cobalt blue candle holders for each of my seven siblings. As I got older, I considered it a worthy challenge to figure out the perfect gift for everyone on my list.

Now I feel great if I can choose one gift for each of those I have been close to over the past year that somehow "fits." What makes a gift "fit" can be any one of a number of things, but mostly I try for something personal, beautiful, hand-made, or useful. When I can combine several of those it's a home run. But that's rare. Mostly, I just want folks to know I was thinking about them in a personal way.

I never fail to be touched by others who give me gifts. Even though i am notoriously easy to buy for (have many interests, love many different kinds of things), i am still amazed at how perfect almost all gifts given to me are. I cannot recall the last time I even felt the urge to return a gift.

This year, I mostly grew things for folks (basil plants) - i started them way back in the summer from little bitty black seeds. That was especially nice for me, as it lead me to be thinking about the recipients of those growing gifts all through the plant's nursery period and young mature period.

Other gifts were very personal in some way - personal in the way that the recipient would think of some aspect of themselves when they looked at the gift (or used it) - and how i connected with that part of them.

Having lived through 55 Christmas seasons now, I have come to the same place my maternal grandmother Lillian was when she would talk to me about the art of gift giving (she was in her fifties then). She once told me that I would remember gifts I gave rather than gifts I received, so to spend more time thinking about the former rather than the latter; she was right.

She was right.
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