“What am I gonna do wit this, Jan?” That is what my stepdad said after opening any gift that wasn’t cash or scotch. In his defense, my mom was the queen of knick-knacks and other completely NOT useful objects. Over the years, she learned to attach cash to knickknacks with rubber bands. The wheelbarrow full of fifties was a regular as John used that line whenever a server would ask if they could get him anything else. “A wheelbarrow of fifties!”
Even if someone got him a nice, expensive bottle of scotch, he would take it back to the store and get two cheaper bottles. Not CHEAP, just cheaper than the one he received. I learned throughout the years. As soon as I was dating someone over 21, my beau and I would go to the liquor store and get the man a medium-sized bottle of Glenlivet Single Malt. Glenfarclas (pronounced: GlenFAHCLAH) was also appreciated. Like him, I wasn’t a fan of things that didn’t have some purpose other than decoration. It took me years to come to that conclusion about the people I allowed into my life.
My mom was not great at receiving gifts either. “Why would you get me this color?!” She was sitting there, near the coffee table top pink and white Christmas tree, stuffing the sweater, shirt, or purse back into the box in anticipation of a mall run the next day. For me, it was easy to find something for mom. She liked clothing, jewelry, perfume, and knickknacks. I didn’t attempt to buy her clothes. We always had different tastes. Hers can be described as Dolly Parton out to brunch. Mine was more John Hughes preppyish with a dash of darkness. I really didn’t have real jewelry money, but I did find some costume stuff that she liked. Most of the time, I just went with perfume. I just didn’t have it in me to buy knickknacks.
So, now, here I am at age 52 telling people, “Don’t buy me anything!” every Christmas. Seriously, I don’t need anything. The only thing out there I want is a $1500 virtual reality headset, and I do not need that. Even the person who would buy me something like that agrees that I don’t need that. I can’t be the only one who is completely overwhelmed with gift-giving in the age of easy Amazon self-gifts. Lately, John’s voice and that upward pointing cone hand gesture have been in my head when I’m tempted to put something in my cart. “What am I gonna do wit this?” I ask myself.
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These are good reasons.