The person who says “It’s the thought that counts,” has never received a truly terrible gift, like a filing cabinet from her husband. That didn’t happen to me, of course. Just someone I know. And not my mother either, though I do remember the year she got a vacuum cleaner from my father. It might have been the same year my uncle, her brother, also bought her a vacuum cleaner. It’s a sore subject so I wouldn’t dare ask my mother to confirm the timeline, even now, 30 years later.
Honestly, I don’t blame my mother for being aggravated about receiving not one, but two, power vacuums. I mean, if it really is the thought that counts, then what were those guys thinking? That my mother needed to sweep more? No. First of all, our house was never dusty. Even if it was, you don’t wait until Christmas to give a woman with two children and a full-time job a hint like that. If anything, you give her a maid. As an adult, I can see that.
Maybe that’s another important detail to add: I was complicit in giving my mother the vacuum. I was five or so and one of my earliest memories was accompanying my father to a department store to pick this gift. In we walked, past the jewelry department and cosmetics, presumably declining help from well-meaning sales associates who could have saved us from ourselves. Once in-home appliances, we settled on a mauve-colored canister model with a full suite of attachments. One of the main selling points of this particular vacuum was that it was so light, even I could pick it up.
“This will be good on the steps,” my father said, swinging the canister like a kettle bell. “Nice and light.”
Today, I wince just thinking about it – this lightweight, compact vacuum that my mother could easily maneuver around furniture and down a flight of stairs. But, as I child, I didn’t know any better. I read the room, my father being the only other person in it, and got very excited indeed about the prospect of cleaning hardwood floors with the push of a button. Christmas shopping complete, I was under strict orders for the next two weeks not to talk about what we had stashed in the trunk of my father’s Thunderbird, lest I “ruin the surprise.” Not blowing his cover is perhaps the only time during my entire childhood that I managed to keep my mouth shut about anything of significance. And that’s a real shame because if ever there was a time to give someone the head’s up that a terrible gift was on its way, that was it. My father and I, we both failed my mother that year.
Years ago, I read an article by my college English professor about the art of gift giving. A gift, she wrote, can’t be “just anything.” According to her, “It must be something special — something one would not buy for oneself but that, received from the loved one, produces a lurch of surprise and delight at the realization that this is just what one wanted.” So, in other words, not a vacuum.
I will admit that her criteria sound a little lofty. But I think the problem is more a matter of language than concept. I would put it this way: A gift is a treat. A bonus. A touch of frivolity. My professor is exactly right when she says a good gift is something the other person wants but wouldn’t buy for him or herself.
I try to keep that in mind when I do my holiday shopping. Assuming there is no “wish list” to consult or practical needs to be met, I keep my purchase firmly in the fun zone – fun being different things for different people, like two tickets to a José James concert or a 6-quart InstantPot for people not yet familiar with José James. To me, the best gifts are useful but somewhat unnecessary: a frilly apron for the friend who likes to bake; a monogram wax seal for the person who still uses envelopes; color map mugs for the coffee+travel lover. As someone with ample free time and a fair amount of creativity, I go DIY sometimes too, drawing my nephews books by hand and writing them personalized stories. Last I heard, my grandmother still carries around the set of business cards I had printed for her after she complained about never having anything to show for her years in the workforce. I can’t say that all those gifts were hits, but I think the recipients know that I tried. I didn’t mail it in with a pair of Christmas socks and a gift certificate to Red Lobster. I gave it some thought.
When I think of the best gifts I’ve received, it’s the thoughtful ones that I remember too: a decorative oil and vinegar bottle set (I make a lot of salads); a Kindle Unlimited subscription (obvious); a 5W mini bull horn megaphone with push-to-play music (also obvious). Last month, Johann gave me an early Christmas gift: the full-size reindeer pelt that I stop and pet every time we walk through the craft market in Helsinki. I’ve had the chance to buy it a hundred times by now, but never did. I couldn’t justify spending the equivalent of a week’s worth of groceries on something to cover the lower half of our bed. For me, it’s the perfect gift: I love it, but I’d never buy it. He gave it to me in November so that I could enjoy it as soon as possible. He gets it.
Out of fairness, I should say that my father “gets it” now too. About ten years ago, my mother unwrapped a diamond ring on Christmas morning. I don’t know how big it was exactly, but when I saw it, the first word that came to mind was ridiculous. In a good way, of course.
My favorite thing about this particular ring is that it’s modern – a white gold, solitary stone, round cut number that looks a lot like what most of my friends are flashing nowadays. My mother’s hand is like theirs, an in-your-face reminder that she’s got it going on. Her love is young and fresh and just a little bit obnoxious. Except, unlike my friends, she’s sitting on 40 years of experience. She earned that ring. She swept a lot of carpets for it.
So, as we all head into holiday shopping season, I offer this public service announcement: if the recipients on your list insist that they “don’t need anything”, if there is no “Dear Santa” letter provided and you still want to buy something, then go frivolous. Stay away from the gift cards and the scented candles and the neckties and think about what the other person likes. It doesn’t have to be expensive like a diamond ring or elaborate like an exotic animal hide – it doesn’t have to cost any money at all – but it should be something special. Something that “produces a lurch of surprise and delight.” That might take a little bit of extra thought on your part, but you know what they say: It’s the thought that counts.
Loved the video. Boxed wine? Girl. Same.
I believe they’re calling it “cask” wine these days. Very cool and very legal.
I’m so with you on this. I have become known as the “Gift Whisperer” in my family because I’m known for giving people unique and often customized gifts they would never get for themselves. I made handmade cards for years until life just got too busy. Gifts should be fun, unless someone specifically ASKS for the thing like the vacuum. I asked for new, pretty flatware last year because I was tired of my old, ugly Walmart stuff we ate with for twenty years. The Husband Dude really came, though, when he bought the flatware then surprised me with some pretty charger plates I had lusted over but wouldn’t buy. He had me open them before Christmas so I could use them with my Christmas china for our meal. Good surprises are the best!
YES. So much YES. There is nothing nicer than getting a gift early if it’s something the person will want to use or wear before the holidays. Sounds like you and your husband both get it. Aces.
Yes, yes and yes! I couldn’t agree more. I honestly rather not get a gift than a thoughtless one. My mom sent me one of those impersonal prepackaged bath sets one year (you know the one: a small gift basket wrapped in cellophane with a bow on it), even though I’m not into beauty products at all. Good thing she wasn’t there when I opened it, because I just dumbly stared at it, thinking “what the hell?”
Ha! If you and me and half my friends banded together come January, we could probably open a multi-brand Bath & Body Works type shop. I feel you… it’s hard to talk about “bad” gifts without appearing ungrateful. For me, it’s not about being disappointed by the thing in the box (a candle does not affect me!) it’s sort of the reminder or admission that maybe this other person doesn’t care to give me much thought… Like, please, tell me how anyone who knows anything about my life could think to themselves, “And for Nova – a candle! If there’s one thing she’ll want to pack up and move around the world in checked luggage, it’s this!” Is that ungracious of me? Yeah, probably. A little bit at least. And that’s it’s own character flaw – arguably a worse one too. But yeah, if I were buying for you, I’d get you something with four legs. Now THAT would leave you speechless for sure.
My mother had a stock phrase whenever someone (usually my Dad) gave her Ugly or OMG for Christmas: “oh, Walter, you shouldn’t have” which covered a vacuum, an umbrella, a mixer, and her diamond engagement ring that she loved, until he took it to the jeweler and had the setting ‘modernized”. “Oh walter, you shouldn’t have.”
Or the year my aunt took painting lessons and gave her a portait of me (not even on a good day…) and “Oh Kay, you shouldn’t have…” rang through the house.
So what you’re saying so resonates…I think men get the colly wobbles when it comes to gifts, and go for what looks familiar, or affordable-but-expensive…
Ha! Classic. You shouldn’t have… I heard that a time or two when our company gave each employee three, yes three, coffee mugs for Christmas. (The gift was supposed to be one mug and one travel mug, but the London office didn’t want their travel mugs so they shipped them to New York and gave everyone two – LUCKY!) Honestly, they really shouldn’t have.
This is a lovely post and you are clearly a very thoughtful person.
Thank you – I try! I also like to shop but, for years now, haven’t really had a place to call home. So it’s a win win :)
The only other thing that bothers me about gifts is the people who get them, and then find the flaws.
One year, long long ago, I gave a good friend a really pretty, relatively expensive writing lap desk. He wrote a great deal, and I thought this would be a nice thing for chair-writing.
He looked at it and said, “I already have one…”. He looked at it again and said, ‘there’s a knot in the wood. That will fall out.”
Needless to say, it was the last gift he got from me.
Part of the burden, if you will, should be on the getter, to at least be gracious about it. Fake the joy, already.
“This will eventually get old.” LOL. I don’t blame you for taking him off the list.
More like anyone who says “it’s the thought that counts” doesn’t have children…