PRICELESS GIFTS

The Best Gifts for Christmas, Birthdays, Graduations, and Always

When money’s tight and time is in short supply

The usually snarlcastic, outragous Lizzie the Lizard Brain is having a chill night. It’s about time.

Christmas and other holidays aren’t my thing. Neither are birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Women in Technology Day, or World Veggies Appreciation Day. The NBA Playoff Finals were the dates circled in red on my calendar.

In my family, Christmas and birthdays were when we shopped for things most people would buy on Saturday. Aftershave for Dad, socks the kids needed in August before school started, a pair of shoes without holes, and if I was lucky — a new notebook to scribble in. Pens, a haircut, and expired half-price chocolate rounded out the bounty.

Christmas shopping was an adventure in tracking down the store that stayed open the latest on Christmas Eve.

I think I was 6 when my parents forgot my birthday so said it was the next day. For the next 5 years, I was confused.

Later, we pretended to be honoring each other as if we were America’s Founding Fathers. “Wednesday doesn’t work for me. Let’s call it next Monday.”

I knew my brother was secretly re-gifting when he tried to give me his leftover spaghetti.

From the week before.

Hidden under his bed and half-eaten by the frustrated dog who couldn’t reach the whole thing.

Don’t feel bad — I’m exaggerating.

The dog only licked the plate, and there wasn’t a lot of drool.

Children adulting

It’s not that we were dirt poor or terribly abused. Those who were supposed to be adults were often busy, overwhelmed, and scatterbrained. I was introduced as the family mother from the time I was five. Child Protective Services Alert!

“You’re in trouble buster! You’re grounded for a week!” I scolded my little brother. Older brother Big D punched my arm and reminded me Cabbage could barely walk so it was unlikely he’d steal the car.

Later, Big D and I both got into some minor trouble, mostly pranks. We’d consult on possible repercussions after committing our petty crimes, but he looked to me for creative excuses and a more mature perspective.

“You have to apologize and be punished. Take a time-out.”

Big D laughed. “Shall I put my head down on my desk? I’m worried I’ll be cut from the team if Brian’s dad figures out it was us who broke into the Elk’s Club to steal the wine. He’s the Chief of Police!”

And then we grew up

People mean well when they choose gifts, though sometimes they confuse pink with blue for the baby, or forget your food allergies. Or, do they?

I’m thinking of the macaroni craft project my daughter gave me with a smiley face on a plate. She could have left off the peacock feathers. Using our best sheet and getting help to mount it on a King-size heavy wooden frame made it tough to transport.

Alex was immature for a college student.

I gave my brother a tube of Bengay muscle cream one Christmas. Then I asked him to help move furniture in the garage.

He looked cute in his other presents — satin jockey shorts with horseys on them worn over his jeans, and a hideous shiny shirt with “I’m Macho Man!” printed over a field of daisies with lightning bugs and fairies.

Symbolic gifts of consideration

These days, family members typically trade symbolic gifts. My brother finds some of the most unusual hand-painted socks imaginable to keep my always cold feet warm. But cardboard breaks down in the washer.

My daughter and I trade things we normally don’t waste money on. An old movie we enjoyed watching when she was younger, the expensive Indian food I like but she’s not crazy about, and scraps of paper. Last year, she gave me a glittery shawl I’ll wear if I ever visit Paris on New Year’s Eve.

No, I’m better than that. I wore it to the grocery store.

Then we watched the Never Ending Story for the twenty-seventh time and she didn’t make faces over my favorite Christmas Dinner — Lamb Masala.

Seriously valuable gifts

The scraps of paper and emails we now exchange on traditional gift-giving days have ideas, promises, encouragement, stories, and IOUs for time and attention on demand.

We promise to show up to give and receive in whatever manner is needed — a hug, a pep talk, a debate we don’t want to have, or to change a bandage. Whether it’s watching The Gift for the 3rd time, computer taming, or making our flights on time for once — the IOU holder names it, and they get what they need.

For some things, there’s a little negotiating. “Really? Do you have to hang those pictures right away? How about 5 pm on the Next of Never? I can see if it’s crooked over the phone. You need me to fly across 4 states to help put nails in walls?”

Yep, my brother did. Life threw him a curve ball covered in green snot.

Since we’ve mellowed as adults we recognize there’s usually some personal attention needed the mail carrier can’t, or stubbornly won’t, give.

The tradition started when we played the “What if money didn’t matter?” game. It didn’t take long to see Great-grandma preferred a hug over a mansion.

So I hugged her.

And gave her my daughter’s macaroni peacock 30-pound wall covering.

Because my darling, she needed it.

Happy giving and receiving to those who enrich my life, and Susan Brearley for the Garden of Neuro.

Thanks for the magnificent singing and editing prowess of BOFace. His incredible acting skills shone as he played all 3 Christmas Carol ghosts at once!

Back to Lizzie Lizard Brain being bad —

Short and twisty

Inspired by Brother Cabbage

Longer and useful

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