Christmas time is at hand, and I’m proud to say that my shopping is complete. Of course, I only buy for my wife; I don’t think Amy trusts me to buy for others. My extravagance would cost us too much through the rest of the year. I don’t need to be the one who needs to buy presents for others because I already have plenty of difficulties shopping for just one person.
Years ago, I had to learn about buying presents for a woman. Sure, in elementary school I bought six-foot stuffed snakes, and in high school a bottle of cologne and an inexpensive locket on a chain worked fine. The rules change after marriage. We’d been married five days when that first Christmas arrived. I bought what I thought were wonderful gifts. The one of which I was proudest was a set of hot curlers for Amy to use in her beautiful hair. She opened the box, and the fallen look on her face said it all: I messed up badly! My first lesson about buying presents for wives was that they aren’t to be practical ones. Things such as vacuum cleaners, appliances, or pots and pans lead a man straight to doghouse for the next twelve months.
On other Christmases I’ve given furniture to Amy. Usually, those items have been things that I have worked on for a long time. One year I bought an old cedar chest. I brought it home, stripped, sanded, and refinished it. Another time I bought a new rocking chair and stained it. Amy used that rocker to feed her babies and rock them to sleep. Both items mean a great deal to her; they’re heirlooms that she will pass along to the kids in years to come.
I next learned the secret to a good Christmas present. When our daughter was about one and a half, a picture of her was taken, and it was beautiful. I found an artist who completed a huge colored chalk sketch of that picture. Amy tore the paper from that present, and the moment she saw it, her eyes welled up with tears. I knew that the present was a good one. I haven’t struck that nerve many times over the years, but nothing feels better than when it does happen. Men, always try to get something that has the ability to pull your wives’ emotional string. You’re an instant hero if that happens.
I love to Christmas shop for Amy. I’m not so sure that women shoppers are so delighted to see me though. For several years I bought clothes as presents. I didn’t take the first thing I came to. Instead, I’d walk among the racks of clothes and occasionally stop to pick up an item. I envisioned Amy in that piece of clothing. Sometimes hours were spent looking for just the right blouses, slacks, skirts, and suits. On Christmas morning Amy opened each box and oohed and aahed enough to make me glow with pride. However, I am not as stupid as some might think. In my jewelry box at home were the receipts for each item. Amy made sounds over the fact that I had spent that much time to find the presents. Many of them were returned the next day, either because they didn’t fit properly or they didn’t suit her taste. I still got brownie points for the effort that I’d given.
This year I visited a jewelry store in search of the perfect pendant and chain. I found it after scouring the cases. A diamond circle pendant on an eighteen-inch chain was what I bought and returned home. Something bugged me though, and I looked in Amy jewelry cabinet when I got home. There it was, the same item I’d just bought. Amy already had a circle pendant, and what’s worse, I’m the one who bought it last year for Christmas. I realized that a man must keep notes on what he’s bought his wife over the years. After thirty-two of them, a guy forgets.
I have a stash of presents for Amy, and with any luck she’ll like them all. Then I can begin planning my list for next year. I just hope I can remember what I bought and won’t duplicate them. Some day I might have to take Amy with me so that she can pick out her own presents, and the fun will be gone.
2 comments:
I'm going to pass this on to Keith -- he'll be able to sympathize! :)
__Buying presents in an age when most people satisfy themselves is challenging indeed. Believe me, Joe, I empathise and identify with your experience. But there was a time when satisfying one's self wasn't so easy.
__I remember 30 years ago. Nancy and I had dreams, no car, an old house with a Franklin wood burner, and little more. Ten months before Christmas Nancy put an expensive black dress on layway. She was hospitality coordinator at the Catholic Church, the most prestigious volunteer position in the hierarchy. Her work earned for the church tens of thousands of dollars over the next ten years but this was her first.
__We were poor but upwardly mobile, though my wife's clothes left no doubt that we weren't that upwardly. This gala was austentagious with Carbondale's creme de creme in attendance. Nancy is a marvelous cook with a wonderful personality. But she was required to hand out awards and give a small speech. She knew this for nearly a year and didn't say a peep. So this is why she put $50 down. She needed an evening gown commenserate with the occasion while we barely had the pot cliche.
__I didn't know she put $50 down for a dress. I didn't know about the gala and her forthcoming humiliation. But in November I found in the trash a sales slip. It was for a black dress, a gold chain with a cross, and black high heal shoes. I completed a long writing project that November which Nancy knew nothing about. She was kind and avoided challenging me about our poverty. I was ill much of the time then with migraine headaches. I was writing mostly small projects, but this time I received $2,000 in cash and was so happy that I wheeled three miles on the shoulder of route 13 to the mall. I was on a mission to buy a black dress.
__But on the receipt was printed "black dress," the price, and layaway payments with no name of the shop. I told Nancy I was wheeling to the lake that morning and spent the entire day visiting clothing stores until late in the afternoon I hit pay dirt.
__On Christmas morning toddler Ted was the only one receiving gifts that year is what Nancy believed. As I said, we were very poor. Because I'm crippled, my writing was our only hope so the $2,000 wasn't just a godsend. It was a miracle.
__My hope was that a sales clerk would remember the dress but amazingly the dress and accessaries were not returned to the shelves. Dust collected on the box, forgotten, and the signed ticket was still taped to the top. My writing project was more than enough for the dress and accessaries.
__I waited in the mall until I knew Nancy would be at church with Ted, and took a cab home hiding the three presents in the back of a large drawer in my office desk.
__When she opened the black dress with matching shoes and a real gold chain, she couldn't stop crying, Joe. She couldn't stop crying. She couldn't stop crying and neither could I.
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