Good Will Toward Men Goes Out With Holiday Tinsel
For as long as I’ve known him, my husband always has made the same New Year’s resolution.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and, his voice dripping with disgust, declares, “I’m not sending out any Christmas cards next year.”
Never mind this business about spreading holiday cheer, or even seizing the moment to drop a quick line to far-flung friends.
My husband is a sensitive guy. Every unrequited Christmas card is like a dagger to his heart.
“Scratch those (expletive deleted) off the list,” he says. “They didn’t send us one this year.”
Now that the Christmas tree has been reduced to a mere fire hazard, the See’s candy is picked over and our daughter has scattered Santa’s spoils everywhere, the annual post-holiday harangue has begun.
“You couldn’t wait to rush out and return them, could you?” my mother was telling me during our quality time together between Christmas and New Year’s.
We were talking about the necklaces she had so thoughtfully picked out as gifts for my sister and me. We took them back Dec. 26, and so as not to hurt my mother’s feelings, we didn’t bother her for the receipts.
What we got was 30% off when my mother had paid full price.
“Yeah, well, next year you’re all just getting a check,” says my mother.
My husband, meantime, couldn’t believe that I got him a shirt contaminated with polyester--I admit the oversight--or that tie with enlarged amoebas, read paisley. He took both back.
Of course, that jacket and dress he bought me didn’t work either. Returned.
But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about my family. We are really very loving toward each other, and some of us even have a strikingly noble world view.
My cousin, for example, was sizing up her childrens’ toy collection, which is vast and unappreciated. Soon it would grow even larger, thanks to Hanukkah.
Enough is enough, she thinks, so she calls her two sons, one of them age 2 and the other, 5, to her side.
“You know, there are a lot of little boys and girls who don’t have toys,” my cousin explains. “These boys and girls are poor. Wouldn’t it be nice to give these children some of your toys?”
The two boys nod their heads, their eyes big as Moon Pies, and keep listening.
“Now I want you to go upstairs and pick out eight nice toys that you don’t play with anymore,” my cousin says. “And then we can give them to the boys and girls who don’t have toys.”
No problem. The boys agree that would be a smashing idea. The little one takes off like a rocket and comes back loaded down with toys--all of them belonging to his brother.
Frankly, none of this bothers me. All of these incidents took place in the ‘80s, the Greed is Great decade that gave us Ivan Boesky, Madonna and a slew of slicked-backed Gordon Gekko imitators.
The 1990s, or so I read, will be a decade of down-to-earth practicality and common sense values. Clothes will be simple, slouchy and comfortable. Anybody who’s anybody will have a highly developed environmental consciousness.
So in the common sense decade, millions of hip Americans will undoubtedly follow the lead of a friend of mine, a man ahead of his time in many ways, someone who realized long ago that unwanted gifts only add to our nation’s horrendous landfill dilemma.
In a bold break with tradition, my friend and his brother embarked on a Christmas shopping expedition to their favorite ski shop to buy the other a pre-approved gift.
My friend picks out a $50 pair of pants, his brother, a $150 pair of boots. Realizing the inequity of the situation, the brother suggests that my friend contribute $50 to the boots while he would buy the $50 pants. Terrific.
So they’re standing in line at the cash register, when the obvious takes hold. They should each just buy themselves a Christmas gift.
They’ve been doing it that way for about 10 years now, although in a quaint anachronism, they still wrap their own gift and place it under the tree. “Love, your brother,” the tags read.
“You should see the nice jacket he got me this year,” my friend says. “Just the right color, and fits like a glove.”