Tag Archives: holidays

Holiday Presents

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In response to queries about what I might like as a holiday or upcoming birthday present, I am wondering if I have hit “that age” or developed a stronger sense of being part of the universe?

With the evil spreading in our country that has stripped families apart or made the simple costs of food, shelter and other necessities too expensive for others, how can I want anything? If I need to think about creating a list for days, I think I know the answer

First, my deepest wishes: food, safe shelter, healthcare and education to be accessible in our country. People with compassion, wisdom, morals, the ability to use real language when talking, willingness to listen, commitment to collaborative decisions to lead government at all levels, in all nations. Narcissistic strong men be removed from positions of influence or power.

On the personal level: A giant gift would be securing my family’s futures so that those of us aging don’t burden the younger, the middle generation continue to live the modestly comfortable lives they have achieved, the children reach maturity in a country that has found its way back to peace and prosperity while honoring the Statue of Liberty‘s invitation. It would be grand to find a small house for our last decades and free our family home for a family.

But if my stumbling over the gift question is about approaching “that age” and actual physical items must be named, my gift list is simple: warm socks, two books, a box of English Toffee, framed photos, individual time with each family member in the coming year, donations made to food shelves.  

Add new pajamas and a couple of white long sleeve polo shirts, this might have been my father’s list twenty years ago when he was the age I am now. And he is a good reminder of what holiday presents should include. He was someone who gave to others at holidays: food boxes we packed, a canned ham, cookies we baked, wrapped toys, sweaters and pajamas for others’ children, cash in a card, and because it was Wisconsin sometimes a bottle of brandy. 

Time to get busy.

Happy Clean It All Up Season

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Plastic pumpkins should have been stored in the Halloween bin. A pilgrim waits to be moved with the other handful of Thanksgiving decorations. We’ll need at least a half day to put all the Christmas pretties in the basement. The outdoor lights are red and white, so they will wear well until Valentines Day.

Even after reducing decorative stuff by many storage containers, there is so much stored.  It’s hard to trash or give away generations of ornaments, candles gifted by folks now passed, a goofy collection of singing stuffed animals. No family member wants to add these to their holiday decorations, but no one is really okay with giving much away.

New Year’s Day I typically want to write, watch football, chill, but also find my hands impatient to empty the family room of gnomes and the singing animals. The dining room table could be stripped of a tablecloth and brought back to its normal size. I am done with the beloved clutter. Toss the poinsettias. Store the candles. Put away the stockings and hangers. 

Storage bins, filing cabinets, pretty cloth baskets fill ads staging cleaning as invigorating, fun, a natural activity to fill dark winter weeks. With healthy athletic drinks and granola bars also advertised, there is some implication that marketing genius know of a heart-friendly link between snacks and organizing. The whole clean up season is filled with many opportunities to tweak a back moving boxes, many tiny paper cuts or tree hanging hook snags, eye fatigue correcting holiday card lists. 

Forbes, the Cleveland Clinic, Simple and others cite the link between a healthy mind and a clean house. You must look hard to find anything suggesting a tidy house is sign of inferiority. House tidiness or messiness are both probably in one of those twenty-seven signs of dementia or fourteen indicators that you are wearing the wrong size shoes. 

Let those who find new bins and organizing systems satisfying spend what’s left of the holiday dollars. If the tree is put away before friends come over for football’s great Sunday extravaganza and the boxes are near the storage area by Valentine’s Day, consider yourself owner of a moral victory. 

Warning: The Easter Bunny will not leave eggs in red or green felt holiday socks left hanging anywhere in the house. Even those with pastel plastic grass sticking out the top. Do not insult the little creature.

The Gift of Nothing at All

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I am blessed to have a number close women friends. Any one of them can make me feel great about my new haircut, laugh their butts off with me over the stupidest little thing, let me rant about my job/parents/kids/house/you name it, and offer wise advice if I want it or simply listen if I don’t. I trust them with my secrets, and I count on these friends when times are tough. You know who you are, and I love you.

But I don’t want to buy you presents even though you deserve them—loads of them.

Why? Gift-giving anxiety. Go ahead—roll your eyes. It’s stupid, I know.

It starts off innocently enough. I see cute a little tchotchke—maybe it’s a 4-inch tall robot that makes me smile and I think, that would make (name of close friend goes here) laugh. So I buy it to give at Christmas or your birthday. Sometimes I covet a lovely item—maybe a small oval box covered in marbled Florentine paper, but I stop myself because I already have a number of pretty little boxes. But one of my besties would love this too, so I buy it. And that’s how the gift exchange among girlfriends begins.

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At first, it’s fun. I’ve received many wonderful, inspired gifts. I love them because you thought to give them and because I enjoy the things themselves. I’ve tried to return the favor. Over the years, I’ve given scented candles, deluxe lotions and soaps, cool earrings, whimsical artwork, Christmas ornaments, good books, pretty scarves, food treats—whatever little luxury I think you’ll enjoy.

But after several years of gift exchanges, I’ve exhausted my good ideas for small treasures. Gift-giving anxiety creeps in. Didn’t I buy you earrings last time? How many scented candles does a person need? Will this red scarf go with any of your clothes? I want to do something nice for you, but what? Soon I am haunting gift shops and boutiques in search of the perfect cool thing for you. And then the missteps begin. I get a book you’ve already read. Coffee hurts your stomach, so that special coffee and mug—well, maybe you can give it to somebody else.

If you didn’t matter so much to me, this wouldn’t be so hard.

Eventually, we are both struggling. Finally, one of us says let’s call off the gift exchange. We are both relieved.

We agree to go out instead and do what we love most: talk, laugh, advise, comfort. That’s the best gift—time with you.