Monday, December 09, 2013

Sometimes the best Christmas gift for Dad is no gift at all

Patty here

All my life I tried without much success to shop the perfect Christmas gift for my father. He was sensitive to the cold so one year I bought him a sweater that even Nanook of the North would have been proud to wear. When my father opened the box, he said all the right things but I could tell the sweater didn’t light his fire. He never wore it except once when I forced his arms into the sleeves during a visit. Going through his things after he died, I found the sweater in its original box with the bow still inside. It looked as if he had put it away after I left and never took it out again.



Hey, it worked for Colin Firth.

As years of gifts piled up, so did the stuff my father never used. He could have opened a general mercantile store and stocked it with gifts I’d bought for him. When I asked why he didn’t use that new wallet or those slippers that were meant to replace the duct-taped relicts he’d worn since dinosaurs roamed the earth, he’d tell me the old ones still had some “good” in them. Once when I pressed the issue, he told me he had a closet full of clothes that would last for the rest of his life. Adding more stuff to the mix seemed to him like an unnecessary waste of my hard-earned cash. 


Jingle Bills

The older I get, the more I understand my father’s point of view. Most people have too much stuff, stuff that fills houses and overflows into garages, then into rented PODS and storage units. Some people visit their stuff and others leave it to languish unattended and mostly forgotten. My closet is also full of clothing that will never wear out in my lifetime. My theory is if you haven’t worn or used something for a few years, you should give it to someone who will wear or use it. More and more when I contemplate bringing new stuff into my world, I ask myself this question: will it really make my life easier, better or happier? 


Several years ago I told family and friends that I was opting out of the Christmas gift exchange. My decision was a hard sell for some people. A few agreed to make donations to charity in lieu of gifts. A few probably thought I was one of these:


A heart "two sizes too small"

I would like to be that person who always finds the perfect gift for people I love, but in reality, I’m not very good at mind-reading. Past holidays often left me feeling as if I had spent buckets of money for stuff nobody wanted. On hindsight, gifts that seemed wonderful to me turned out more like this:



If somebody gives you lemons, make lemonade

 

Recently, I had a Hallelujah moment. I'm not alone. Here’s an op-ed piece from the November 29, 2013 Los Angeles Times titled "The Season of Excess Begins" by Daniel J. Fink, which aptly expresses how I feel about the "barely restrained annual celebration of blatant commercialism..."
“As Black Friday morphs in one direction to interfere with the celebration of Thanksgiving and in the other toward Cyber Monday, people continue to buy one another things just because they ‘have to get someone a gift,’ even if it may be re-gifted, returned or never used.
...If you feel a need to give, give food to the hungry, clothes and toys to those in need, or donations to victims of storms, violence or conflict. A plate of homemade cookies or some other delicacy delivered personally is a much better way to remember friends and family than a meaningless generic gift, a 'dustable' to sit on the shelf or yet another ill-fitting sweater in the wrong color. And most older people need even fewer things. Unfortunately, what they really want—youth, vigor health—are things we can't give them. But they, and I'm sure many others, would appreciate a call, a card or a visit from family, neighbors and friends. So will you."

So here's the deal: I will make you my killer brownies for Christmas but, instead of that sweater, would you mind instead if I donated money to help little guys like this?


I think I love you


Whatever you're doing today—shopping or not—cheers to a Happy Monday! 




Sweet Nothings

14 comments:

  1. Paul here. Agree wholeheartedly, and as a result, I'm withholding presents from all the Nakeds. (Patty, you would have hated that Prada purse).

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    1. And that Zegna leather jacket would have looked so good on you...

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  2. Amen to that! Shopping is a chore -- going somewhere fun with a friend is a joy -- gifts of time make great sense!
    . . . and Paul is too funny!

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    1. Cheers to that! Paul is a hoot. Brownies for all!

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  3. I agree wholeheartedly. For the past 15 years I have made gift baskets of consumables for all our friends and family of a certain age (usually over 40) who just don't need or want more stuff in their house. I pick a theme and enjoy the shopping and basket building, then they enjoy eating their way through the goodies (or so they tell me). I have made Italians dinners, breakfast goodies, ice cream parties, a night at the movies snacks, local wines, and such.

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    1. What a great idea, Mo! I'm going to do that, too. Thanks for the inspiration.

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  4. I recently read somewhere that being materialistic is inversely correlated with resiliency, which leads me to wonder if the reverse is true: that resilient folk just don't crave more stuff. May even mistrust the impulse to do so? What if it's boxes of chocolate candy?

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    1. Maybe resilient folks have lived without stuff enough times to know that one can survive and be happy without it. However, chocolate is in a category all by itself. I cannot imagine some people living without that :O)

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  5. Hey there. I totally in sync with this blog.... you know why.

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  6. from Jacqueline

    Patty, I just caught up with your post. This sums up exactly how I feel about the Christmas/Holiday gift giving thing nowadays - it's too much! About ten years ago I made the decision to let everyone know I was not buying gifts, but instead I was going to take my entire gift "budget" and make a donation to the humane society where I had found my lovely dog, Sally (who went to dog heaven about five years ago now). I asked friends and family not to buy me gifts, but instead to donate any money they would have spent to a non-profit of their choice. On the day of our "gifting" I tied a lovely red ribbon around Sally's neck, finishing with a bow, and off we went with our check. Oh my, it was a terrific feeling, handing over that money and seeing Sally get lots of fuss and treats and being told she had gone to a great home (which she knew, because she lived until she was 15, which is a good innings for a lab). We came away, both of us, very happy, and with me feeling no pre-Holiday stress and with quite the seasonal skip in my step! Great post, Patty!

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    1. I love that story. Sally was, indeed, a very lucky girl.

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  7. From Jeff M

    Catching up after a while, Patty. I'm going to add another perspective on your Dad's reluctance to wear/use your gifts.

    It isn't even out of the perspective of those who lived through the Great Depression, the mentality everything should be used until you've squeezed every last drop out of it. It's something both more essential, and far more fundamental.

    I have a suspicion that what your Dad was feeling, as he left your gifts in their original box, complete with the original bow, was that he always wanted them to be fresh and new. Always from His Little Girl.

    After all, if he wore or used them, eventually they would fade, show signs of wear and tear, and thus must needs be set aside, discarded, or replaced. If he didn't use them, he could always remember the joy of when they were first given to him.

    Just I suspect he always thought of His Little Girl.

    As I read your post, I was reminded of a time I spent a long distance away from my own Dad, just after Mom had passed away. Back before the internet or cell phones, I took the time to write him regularly, once or twice a week, long letters full of the nothings of my day, just to be writing him. Dad wasn't much for writing, but I didn't really care about getting letters in return.

    I was quite taken aback, the very next time I was home, to see one single thing out of place in the living room: a neat, tall stack of familiar envelopes sitting on the console stereo in the living room--right next to his chair.

    Happy Nakedness, Patty (and fellow Nakeds)--the gift that keeps on giving! :)

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    1. Jeff, how lovely to see you back with us! We've missed your thoughtful commentaries. Great memory about your dad. Sometimes it's those unspoken gestures that pack the biggest emotional wallop.

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