We’re well underway on the season of gift giving. The solemnity of the three gifts that the Magi brought to the infant Jesus has given way to our own interpretation of gift giving at Christmas. Gifts can be small tokens of friendship and affection or grandiose dream-fulfilling gestures. I subscribe to the theory that the gift itself isn’t really the point; it’s the thought that matters.
With your letter to Santa in hand, open door number 12.
December 12, 2024
There are two schools of gift-giving thought: store bought and handmade. Exchanging currency for goods seems like an easy way to acquire gifts, but the gift buyer must earn the currency prior to spending it. That takes time and effort. Similarly, making gifts seems inexpensive. I mean all you have to do is knit that sweater or sew that quilt, right? Well, ask any knitter or quilter the cost of yarn and fabric and how long it takes to knit a sweater or sew a quilt, and the gift buyer and the gift maker suddenly stand on even ground.
Earlier I mentioned the thoughtfulness of the gift giver being more important than the gift itself. But there’s a complementary state of grace for the recipient of the gift. It’s called gratitude. Putting a lot of thought into a gift isn’t a guarantee that the recipient is going to like it. But I assert that if a gift is given in good faith and with sincere regard, the recipient should express gratitude for having received it.
Now I’m going to read you the fine print. There’s a corollary to the gratitude rule: The giver cannot have been selfish in their choice of gift. A couple of cases pop to mind when you might not be obligated to feel grateful for what has been foisted upon you. First there are those people who buy you what they want you to have. For instance, your aunt confuses your lack of interest in cooking as a lack of know-how, so she buys you lessons at the local cooking school and says she looks forward to your next dinner party. Great. Can’t wait. Even worse, there are those people who buy you what they want. I think those ads with cars bearing giant red bows in the driveway fall into that category. No one has ever written a thank you note for a monthly payment.
I was recently scrolling social media and found a thread about gifts made by sailors for their loved ones back home. I marveled at the idea of being far away on long journeys, sailing unpredictable seas, performing arduous duties, and still finding the time and desire to craft something from whatever they had into a gift for someone back home. These artifacts are heartwarming reminders that gift giving is hardwired into the human psyche.
My husband is an accountant not a sailor, but this rolling pin reminds me of the year he gave me a food processor. Don’t mistake this for a complaint. He’s not an example of the selfishness corollary. I asked him for one and was absolutely thrilled when I opened the package to reveal it and its myriad blades and attachments. It was my own sous chef in a box. Although it might not have been worthy of being auctioned off in a century, I treasured it, nonetheless.
My fascination with the unique gifts sailors made from leather, wood, and whale bone makes me wonder if, in another incarnation, I was the recipient of a beautifully decorated rolling pin from a sailor who was also very good at sums. After seeing this rolling pin, though, I just wish that food processor had something more beautiful engraved on it than “Caution! Blades Are Very Sharp!”
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