You won’t find the perfect gift in a shopping mall
By Ryan Robinson
Updated Feb 19, 2007 15:52
Exhibit A: my parents.
From 44 years of marriage, five children and 12 grandchildren, they’ve received every present ever created by man, nature or elf — twice.
They don’t have room in their house for anything.
So a few years ago, I got Mom a wrought-iron bird bath. But fake animals, decorative thingamajigs and even a Grecian statue have since cluttered her flower beds, too.
Adding to the shopping quandary is my futile desire to snag “the perfect present.”
You know, the one that spurs the recipient to belt out refrains from Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus.”
I search every year for it, but inevitably end up trudging through store aisle mazes (I mark my trail with bread crumbs to find my way out) with other poor schmucks on Christmas Eve.
We pick at the bone of household items and misfit toys spurned even after being marked down 43 times.
Survivors emerge with something that breaks 10 minutes after putting in the required 14 C batteries, three 9-volts and two Vulcan batteries carried only by three stores in the galaxy, none of them on Earth.
The rest of us wave a white receipt in defeat and settle for the bane of present exchanges — gift certificates.
They say: “Here, loved one, I couldn’t figure out what to get you but I at least narrowed it down to a store.”
This year, the Official Robinson Family Christmas Present Name Picker (my sister) informed my wife and I we were responsible for presents for two nieces, 9 and 12 years old.
I saw it as one last opportunity to zen-connect with my niece, Monica.
In less than a year, she’ll be a teenager, another demographic impossible to shop for unless you spend $1,000 for a PlayStation 3 or hire Justin Timberlake for a personal concert.
Excuse me, my phone is ringing — “Just want to tell you that I’m almost done with my Christmas shopping, so there!”
That was my wife, referring to a short conversation we had last night about whether or not she was waiting until the last minute to do her (translation: our) Christmas shopping.
Anyway, back to Monica, exhibit B.
Hopes of surprising her with “the perfect present” (Hallelujah! Hal-le-LU-jah!) were vanquished when she found out we got her name.
“No gift card, no books, no clothes,” the sixth-grader requested. She later suggested an exact item to buy her.
Pretty soon, we’re just going to give $30 to our loved ones as they hand us 30 bucks back — in festive envelopes.
What happened to the fun of shaking presents to guess what’s inside? Do surprises have to be just for children?
Who cares if you get a dud under the tree? The horrendous multi-colored vests, 3-by-5-foot (no exaggeration) framed pictures of my parents and annoying dolls that sing “Feliz Navidad” provide half the humor at family get-togethers.
Presents aren’t what is important at Christmas anyway; it’s spending time with family and loved ones.
I recently visited my father and helped him split and stack wood that he’ll burn in his stove this winter.
We worked together and talked for hours, like when I was a boy.
My muscles complained for three days, but I won’t get a better present.
CONTACT US: rrobinson@LNPnews.com or 481-6032. The Voices column is written by a rotating team of New Era staffers. It appears Mondays.
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