The Art of the Unspoken Wish List
The ugliest gift I ever received was a hat. I broke through the wrapping paper with the usual acquisitive eagerness, cracked open the cardboard and gaped at a red, white and blue beanie, clearly, as I complained at top volume, “for a boy.”
I stretched the cap, rubber-band style, and snapped it across the dining room. Then I looked up at the crumpled face of the adult who had crocheted each red, white and blue stitch.
I rescued the reject from behind the hot radiator and wore it the rest of the night--even to bed. Wriggling in my scratchy wool nightcap, I had two revelations. Gift-givers have a tough job. So do gift-getters.
Faced with this responsibility, many of the soon-to-be-gifted take the direct approach, and compose a list. They file it with a department store or distribute it to any companions suspected of harboring magnanimous plans.
Registering for wedding gifts seems a practical tool for feathering the new nest with the sort of harmony the couple itself seeks to achieve. I cannot begrudge the bride her coordinated china. But the birthday, shower, anniversary or holiday shopping list seems forward. It takes much, perhaps all, of the mystery out of unwrapping. And forces the giver into the compromised position of facing the exam, answer sheet in hand.
My own shopping lists generally include potatoes and laundry detergent and are best fired electronically to a service in which burly men in shoe-cozies deliver the goods promptly to the back door. But I hesitate to foist a shopping list on friends. The result seems less gift than errand, wrapped.
Ideally, a good gift should vouch for the giver’s attentiveness. Best to assist, with subtlety.
The opportunity may arise while cooking. Perhaps the recipe calls for a 5-quart saucepan, and I seem to have only the 3-quart variety on hand. I find this situation frustrating. I mention it to my husband. I ponder aloud the new cookware on the market. The way the Calphalon once looked handsome, but those black interiors have gone scratchy. The curvy brilliance of the All-Clad Master Chef. The clever design of the saucier, which eliminates burnt corners. The curious predilection of some cooks for copper finish, which can’t tolerate dishwasher treatment. Shouldn’t they opt for stainless?
When, at the next gift-obtaining opportunity, I discover a 5.5-quart Master Chef stainless saucier wrapped and ribboned, I am astounded by its perfection.
And awed by my sweetheart’s keen intuition.