The Gift of Giving

I love giving gifts. I love giving gifts even more than getting gifts. I don't like being in the spotlight, and to receive a gift means someone is looking at me, focusing on me. I much prefer staying in the background—being the accompanist rather than the soloist. But, with each gift received, I work on my ability to be a gracious recipient.

I pride myself on giving good gifts. I listen to what my friends say and observe what they wear or how they decorate their houses or what their passions are. I think I am very skilled at finding good gifts for my friends, gifts that say, "You matter to me."

I've had acquaintances in the past who gave gifts they liked, gifts that fit their lifestyles. I have a hard time being gracious when receiving one of these gifts. Let's say you're a person who decorates her home in kitschy country. You like little bearded Santa Claus figurines and gingham. If you gift me with something that fits into your home, it's not going to fit in my personal synthesis of modern and antiques. It just isn't. And as dear as you are to me, the gift is going to Goodwill. I can only hope you don't happen to see it as you're shopping at Goodwill. (Horrors! Is that where you got it in the first place?!)

The older my gift recipients and I get, the more I lean toward gifts that are consumable. Food, stationery, flowers, …. Things that don't have to be dusted or merged onto existing shelves. Things that will go away and not have to be passed down to someone or sold when I die.

Is the gift of giving genetic? Did someone in my past also love giving gifts and pride him- or herself on the ability to choose great gifts?

I remember, as an elementary school-age child, buying perfume for my mother or after-shave for my daddy. I would save my weekly allowance, then ride my bike to the Rexall a mile away and buy a bottle of (egad!) "Evening in Paris" for my mother. I remember the cobalt blue bottle to this day. When I got home, she would express pleasure over my gift. Four months later I'd notice it was gone, so I'd amass my savings and buy her another bottle. It was all used up: she must love it, right? Only about forty years later did it occur to me that she threw the trash out.

Last fall, at an Artists of the Mahoning Valley show, I bought a pair of gold and silver handcrafted earrings. Two weeks later I lost one. Ridley heard me express annoyance at having lost my new earring. She doesn't yet shop in my closet, so she doesn't know I have more handcrafted jewelry than one person can wear in a year if wearing a different piece each day. I love supporting local artists, regardless of the medium. Oh, and she wasn't around a couple of days later when I found the missing earring.

One evening just before Christmas, Tyler and the babes and I were having Tuesday Night Dinner with Grandma at Cracker Barrel. She pulled her daddy over to an earring display and picked out a pair of earrings for Grandma. They were simple, tasteful earrings that go perfectly with all the black I wear every day. It wasn't just her thought that counted. It was that she displayed good taste and appropriate choices, too! At six years of age! She couldn't wait to give them to me, and I didn't just feign delight. I was delighted!

Now, I don't love these earrings as much as I love some of my artist-created earrings, but you can bet your life that I wear them whenever I'm going to be with her. And you can also bet that she notices. It's as if when she sees me she looks first to my earlobes to see if I've chosen her gift for the day's adornment.

So maybe the gift is genetic. She's definitely got it, and she got it from somewhere. I'd be honored to know she got it from me.

Oh, and by the way? Jewelry is always the perfect gift!