During the Christmas season, I’m not sure which is more ubiquitous: “What did you get for Christmas?”or “What did you give for Christmas?” Now, those of us who are into poo-pooing the commercialization of Christmas are apt to downplay the first and take note of the latter. Most of us have anxieties about either how little or how much we have spent on others and generally soothe ourselves that having a “Merry Christmas” is dependent on our generous attitude rather than whatever we gave or got for Christmas. I usually figure I’ve been successful at this Christmas present giving thing if I’ve managed to stay out of the malls – totally! That “totally”, of course, excludes standing in front of the cosmetic counter at Nordstrom’s on Christmas Eve desperate for one well-made-up, sweet-smelling young woman to notice the plastic twitching between my fingers and help me. I’ve steered clear of “GETTING PRESENTS” as a Christmas letter topic until I was ready to confess that presents I’ve received can bring tears to my eyes. Sadly, some of the presents I’ve given have brought tears to other eyes, like the time I gave Lorelie an electric broom for Christmas. And no, I’m not writing about the gifts of love, friendship, or even Jesus’ birth. And yes, I am writing about things, the packages under the tree that make us wonder what is inside those shiny, wrapped boxes, especially the ones with our names on them.
I turn all tingly and teary when I reflect on the two earliest presents I can remember from when we still lived in Minneapolis. The first present I can recall was a pair of wing-tip shoes like Daddy’s and I knew I was getting them because I’d tried them on, but was not allowed to wear them until Christmas morning. I’d stand at my mother’s knee and pester her to let me wear them in the house. If no other family member were present, she would let me. How grown up I felt. Of all my current shoes, including an always shined pair of wing-tips, I treasure most my Vasque Sundowner hiking boots that took me comfortably on a mountain trail nearly every day when we lived in Ponderosa. My brother Ken gave me the second childhood present, a hand-carved runabout with Chris Craft styling, a planked foredeck and hatches over the rear engine. I can smell the mahogany stain, still fresh on Christmas Eve. Can I even imagine having lived my life without the summers commercially salmon seining in Southeastern Alaska? Being on top of the wheelhouse on the Glenda Faye when we rounded Cape Muzon into the Pacific Ocean and headed up the Coast of Dall Island?
Is it possible that my soul’s direction can be revealed by the memory of Christmas presents? To test this out, I decided to ask other members of the family about their early memories using a technique Lorelie and I have used for years. When we are trying to determine what each of us wants without letting the mind go to work on it, we use the five second rule. We ask a question and the answer has to be given within five seconds. I found out I didn’t need the rule. The answers came that quick! Here are the responses to the question: “What are the earliest Christmas presents you can remember?”
Lorelie: “The first present I can remember is a doll’s house and I loved to decorate it. I’d take all the furnishings out and put them back in the house in different arrangements.” She’s still decorating and redecorating! And what was her second present? “The second present I received were two classical records and I remember the titles: Bolero and the Nutcracker Suite.” Music continues to be a passion for Lorelie whether singing the Brahm’s German Requiem with a choir in her past or discovering a chamber music festival in Leavenworth, or listening to the Kingston Trio on a compact disk while watching the roadside pass by.
Karl: “The model train I received one Christmas.” Before that Christmas vacation was over, Karl had turned a ping-pong table in our Richmond Beach recreation room into a complete village with the train running on schedule, except when Arthur, then a young cat, took a flying leap and became an avalanche that took out track, trains, and the village. Karl’s Grandpa Fred left Karl all his model railroad trains and memorabilia from when he worked on the Great Northern Railroad. At Karl’s and Michelle’s home in Everett, Karl has a dedicated room for his extensive railroad tracks and miniature village. He shares his collection with young children in much the same way Grandpa Fred shared his trains and miniature village with Karl.
Michelle: “I remember I got a set of International Dolls from around the world.” Within Michelle’s lifetime, I’d give odds that Michelle will visit every country represented by those dolls. She was a foreign exchange student to Costa Rica. Her work at Boeing had her traveling to Scotland, Japan and Italy. After a brief pause, she said “I was given child’s set of garden tools.” You guessed it. She loves Karl’s and her gardens (indoor plants and an outdoor garden)! Their garden is a stunner with perennials, roses, annuals, and shrubs packed into their tiny Everett lot and indoor plants flourish in several rooms.
I had to make a call call to check on Paul and I had it figured how he would respond and I wasn’t disappointed! He did hem and haw a bit. “Those wooden boats. The Fisher Price toys. You know the ferry boat and tug.” I can see him now skippering that ferry boat around the Richmond Beach living room while other presents piled up in his corner. He’s still doing it – skippering the troller Pacific Flyer through sparkling Southeastern Alaska waters, filling the hold with fresh silver and king salmon. When he’s not steering his way across channel or bay, he’s steering his way through legal work for The Boat Company.
I asked to talk to Toni. “I remember a walking doll and a folk guitar.” Now, not just a doll, but a “walking” doll. A doll that can stand on her own two feet and move. That’s Toni! Toni walks her own path and the trail that started in Oklahoma has always included music! CD’s, Pandora, Bluegrass festivals! Where will you find her in February? Maybe at the Wintergrass festival in Tacoma, of course, and any local concerts available.
A GLANCE INTO THE FUTURE
Final thoughts: Why is it that out of all those early presents we specifically remember those that have continuing significance in our lives? How is it that someone knew what was “just right” to give us? How is it that way before we had set about any conscious direction in our lives we chose what was important to us, then and now? I can only conclude that I am grateful to those who knew us before we knew ourselves and (whether knowingly or not) gave us presents that provided us with early clues as to where we were going with our lives.
What we give and what we receive has an element of mystery and significance beyond the gift itself.
To read & view Lorelie & Tims’s previous post, JUNK FOOD JAG, – click here –
