Last year, my then-boyfriend’s sister, Suzie, out of the goodness of her heart, bought me a fantastic gift for Christmas. She smiled a warm 1,000-kilowatt smile as she handed me the beautifully wrapped package and on Christmas day, as my cup runneth over, I thought about the warmth she exuded when she handed me the special gift. I opened it slowly with my family members huddled around in anticipation, and that’s when I pulled out a package of socks.
That’s right — socks.
I don’t think that I had ever brandished a holey pair of socks in front of her. I don’t think that we had ever exchanged misty, if-I- only-had-another-pair stories prior to this random show of, er, affection. In fact, to my recollection, I had never expressed an affinity for foot-warming apparel at any time. Therefore, I cannot understand why on Earth Suzie felt the need to buy me a package of plain white athletic tube socks. I would rather have received nothing at all.
Now, please don’t misunderstand me. Anytime someone reaches into their pocket to buy something for me, I am appreciative. I am eternally grateful for extensions of time, energy or money when they are genuine and sincere. Using Christmas as a time to say “”I love you”” waters down the sentiment as it is, but buying gifts out of obligation carries no warm sentiments at all. Buying pointless gifts for people who do not mean enough to you to put a little thought into the purchase is a waste of everyone’s time. Thus, I did not appreciate the socks.
Once again, people turned out in droves to the shopping malls the day after Thanksgiving. The post-holiday sales had consumers tripping over themselves (quite literally when a woman was nearly trampled to death over the holiday weekend while shopping) to get that perfect something for that special someone. Spare me. The last time I checked, K-Mart doesn’t market a hug my size.
It seems a little rhetorical to say outright, but here it goes: Meaning cannot be found in a box.
Every year, I marvel at the billions of dollars spent by Americans desperately trying to make up for the neglect they show their loved ones the other 364 days of the year. And then, as soon as the lights are packed away, so is the loving consideration that came out of the attic with them. With the vanishing act the holiday bird always pulls, also quick to disappear is the reconciliation of family differences that surfaces every holiday season.
Wal-Mart reported record single-day sales of $1.25 billion on the day-after-Thanksgiving sales bonanza, and I am sure many people enthralled with rock-bottom prices forgot about those they were shopping for (if they ever really had them in mind to begin with). At the risk of sounding trite, I would rather be constantly loved and appreciated than momentarily spoiled with impersonal wares and subsequently forgotten.
I have raised this argument to a number of friends, and each time it usually ends with them spewing, “”Fine, I guess this year you’re not getting anything then.”” Well, fine — have it your way. Because if you haven’t called me in two months, then chances are I wouldn’t miss your gift anyway. And if you could easily cross my name off of the present in a gift-exchanging emergency and present it to another person without any loss of meaning, then I don’t want your miniscule token of affection anyway.
Another friend fired, “”I haven’t seen you refuse anything lately!”” This is only because it is easier to toss things under my bed or in the back of my closet than brave the hellacious after-Christmas crowds. Thanks, but no thanks. If I don’t like to battle with venomous shoppers before Christmas, you definitely won’t catch me out after the blessed event. (And to that friend: I still have the Vanilla Bean bath-and-body lotion you gave me from last year. You didn’t bother to ask if I like vanilla — yuck — and I haven’t used a drop.)
Another important rebuttal that was made concerned our new-found patriotic duty to shop. It is true that consumerism is deeply woven into the American fabric, and to halt consumption would surely be to our own detriment. The economy would probably collapse if all Americans collectively decided to boycott the shopping malls, and I would never make such a foolish suggestion. I would advise, however, thinking about the person you are buying for (if your sense of nationalism has called you to shopping duty) before making the decision to buy.
Does the person already have a pair of slippers with huge ducks staring at each other? Does the person have an aversion to ducks? Ask yourself relevant questions concerning your loved one’s personality and likes before you splurge on recyclable gifts.
This year, my family is not getting anything from me. First, they know that I am broke as a joke and a pocketful of gumballs from the quarter machines is asking too much. But secondly, and most importantly, I do not buy into the hype that advertisers assert. “”Nothing says they’re special like (our product here)”” is simply not going to work on me this year.
Despite my resolution to avoid the malls, I have compiled a small list to assist your Christmas shopping. Do not buy your friends and family:
1. Fruitcake (or nuts, popcorn tins and other preserved edibles — unless they absolutely love them).
2. Slippers (unless their favorite pair is talking back to them).
3. Underwear (unless they are the sexy variety, and then if you know someone this well you should be doing better than this!)
4. Socks (of any kind).
Sorry, Suzie. But it had to be said.