Memories of Christmas Shopping
An old adage says it’s better to give than receive. I don’t think my dad ever got a gift that he genuinely wanted, because his friends and relatives bought him clothes. He never wanted clothes. Perhaps this is why he didn’t make a great gift giver.
At a fairly early age it became a tradition for my dad and me to go shopping for his Christmas gift for mom. He was clueless as to what she might want, and I knew, because mom and I shopped together.
Not only did he not know what to give mom, he didn’t know what to get his children. There were only three Christmases when dad actually had a hand in selecting gifts for us. One year, my brother and I both got shiny Schwinn bikes; another year, my brother got an electric train set, and that same year, dad built a stable for my horse statues. Every other year mom bought the Christmas gifts.
Dad gave us his time. We went crabbing; we went snowshoeing, skiing, water skiing, fishing, and hiking.
During a summer sometime in the mid 1980’s, mother, who had inherited some money from an aunt and who spent that money traveling the world alone, wanted me to accompany her to England, Ireland, and Scotland. Like my dad, I don’t enjoy traveling, but I agreed to go with her.
Mostly, I was the luggage handler. She was in her late 70’s, the luggage didn’t have wheels, so I lugged it in and out of buses, taxis, and trains.
We were at Harrod’s Department Store in London on the day of a big sale. Mom tried on a lot of clothing. I remember she fell in love with a Burberry plaid skirt, which cost somewhere between $300 and $400. What I didn’t remember was that she actually bought the skirt.
The following December, dad and I went on our usual shopping jaunt for mom’s Christmas gift. I found a boutique store in downtown Seattle that had the same Burberry skirt, for the same outrageous price.
I harassed my dad, the same dad who when his children asked for money, would hold out his arms and say, “Cut my veins; take my blood,” and that was the end of it.
I finally pestered him enough that he bought the expensive skirt.
On Christmas morning, when mom opened the box and saw the skirt, she was speechless. She got up, ran to the bedroom, and returned holding in her arms the exact same skirt.
So of course, it was a great disappointment to me that not only had I not remembered, but I had coerced dad into buying the skirt.
She took it back and that would be the end of the story except it wasn’t. Dad had purchased the skirt using his Visa card, and that year, during the month of December, a Visa card holder was chosen to have the most expensive purchase they had made during that month, deleted from their bill. Dad was the lucky winner.
In the end, while he didn’t get mom a gift that year, he, as a giver, received that which made him most happy, money.
