ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (12-26-19)- Please remember
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That's what my Mom would ask me every year around Christmas time. "I just want peace on Earth, and good will towards men," I said. "Aw, really?" Mom cooed. "Of course not, Mom, I'm just having a little fun. I want a huge Lego set, but I promise I'll use it to make a giant fortress so I can destroy all the countries that don't want peace on Earth." Knowing what people want for Christmas is a gift. It's a gift that I never received. It's hard enough knowing what I want myself.
It was easier when I was a kid, I just wanted what somebody else had. I wanted a "Sting Ray" bicycle, because another kid on my block had one. It had a "banana" seat and "butterfly" handlebars so you could pretend it was a chopper motorcycle. I pictured all the kids on the street getting one and starting our own cycle gang so we could terrorize the neighborhood, in between spreading good will towards men, and more importantly, women. It seemed at the time like parents were getting away with way too much, and I thought that with strength in numbers we could put an end to that. I never got around to terrorizing anybody, but I could pop a wheelie for fifty feet.
One year I wanted a "Caption Action" doll, which was similar to a "G.I. Joe," but didn't have to answer to a non-commissioned doll. They weren't called "dolls" back then because the manufacturer didn't want everybody getting all freaked out about the fact that boys were playing with dolls. So they called them "action figures" instead. I started out thinking that I might teach my Captain Action to mow the lawn, because I felt that grass was beneath me. Instead I helped him fight injustices in the world, and we also spent some time hectoring Ken right in front of Barbie.
These days I might ask for something that I don't really need, and that I'm too cheap to get. Most things now fit into that category, and manufacturers keep inventing more stuff to put into it. You KNOW that if you get your wife a Miracle-Gro portable herb garden, that the cat is going to Scarborough Fair your whole house with parsley, sage, rosemary, and time to put a new vacuum on the Christmas list for next year, and maybe a new cat. But you'll probably do it anyway.
What do YOU want? It took me years to learn to ask my wife that simple question, but I used to simply forge ahead with my awful gift-giving instincts. Merry Christmas! Here's a dress that you would look GREAT in if you were a completely different person with totally different tastes. It's the thought that counts, and if I thought about it, projecting my own tastes upon somebody else is probably borderline insulting. This year I wanted to get my wife some socks to put in her stocking, because I like the symmetry of that idea. What could be easier than buying a pair of socks? Turns out that quantum physics is easier than buying a pair of socks, because quantum physics only comes in one style. There is an entire women's sock department at Kohl's, so you need to figure out whether she wears compression socks, crew socks, quarter socks, turn cuff socks, boot crew socks, knee-high socks, trouser socks or ankle socks. I'll probably just get her a necktie.
I had a godfather whom I never met. Every Christmas he sent me a book through the mail. A picture encyclopedia one year, a book about birds another, a book of dinosaurs. What kind of gift is that for a little kid? I had to read it to find out. The Lego set disappeared the next year, piece by piece every time my parents stepped on one with bare feet. But the birds are still flying around in my head, the dinosaurs still roaming the Earth.
What do I want? Maybe it's something I don't even know I want. Maybe that's what Christmas really means. My wife got me a smart phone last year, even though she knows that I would only use a cell phone if my car was stuck in a ditch somewhere. Why would someone dig a ditch right next to the road like that? It's a good thing I have a cell phone with me so that I can call the Highway Department and ask them that. If I had remembered to charge the phone I could have a civil conversation with a civil engineer. As the year went by I found myself using it for more and more things, and something I never knew I wanted became something I could lovingly take for granted. Last week I was able to use it to take a picture of my thumb. Progress is my New Year's resolution.
That's what my Mom would ask me every year around Christmas time. "I just want peace on Earth, and good will towards men," I said. "Aw, really?" Mom cooed. "Of course not, Mom, I'm just having a little fun. I want a huge Lego set, but I promise I'll use it to make a giant fortress so I can destroy all the countries that don't want peace on Earth." Knowing what people want for Christmas is a gift. It's a gift that I never received. It's hard enough knowing what I want myself.
It was easier when I was a kid, I just wanted what somebody else had. I wanted a "Sting Ray" bicycle, because another kid on my block had one. It had a "banana" seat and "butterfly" handlebars so you could pretend it was a chopper motorcycle. I pictured all the kids on the street getting one and starting our own cycle gang so we could terrorize the neighborhood, in between spreading good will towards men, and more importantly, women. It seemed at the time like parents were getting away with way too much, and I thought that with strength in numbers we could put an end to that. I never got around to terrorizing anybody, but I could pop a wheelie for fifty feet.
One year I wanted a "Caption Action" doll, which was similar to a "G.I. Joe," but didn't have to answer to a non-commissioned doll. They weren't called "dolls" back then because the manufacturer didn't want everybody getting all freaked out about the fact that boys were playing with dolls. So they called them "action figures" instead. I started out thinking that I might teach my Captain Action to mow the lawn, because I felt that grass was beneath me. Instead I helped him fight injustices in the world, and we also spent some time hectoring Ken right in front of Barbie.
These days I might ask for something that I don't really need, and that I'm too cheap to get. Most things now fit into that category, and manufacturers keep inventing more stuff to put into it. You KNOW that if you get your wife a Miracle-Gro portable herb garden, that the cat is going to Scarborough Fair your whole house with parsley, sage, rosemary, and time to put a new vacuum on the Christmas list for next year, and maybe a new cat. But you'll probably do it anyway.
What do YOU want? It took me years to learn to ask my wife that simple question, but I used to simply forge ahead with my awful gift-giving instincts. Merry Christmas! Here's a dress that you would look GREAT in if you were a completely different person with totally different tastes. It's the thought that counts, and if I thought about it, projecting my own tastes upon somebody else is probably borderline insulting. This year I wanted to get my wife some socks to put in her stocking, because I like the symmetry of that idea. What could be easier than buying a pair of socks? Turns out that quantum physics is easier than buying a pair of socks, because quantum physics only comes in one style. There is an entire women's sock department at Kohl's, so you need to figure out whether she wears compression socks, crew socks, quarter socks, turn cuff socks, boot crew socks, knee-high socks, trouser socks or ankle socks. I'll probably just get her a necktie.
I had a godfather whom I never met. Every Christmas he sent me a book through the mail. A picture encyclopedia one year, a book about birds another, a book of dinosaurs. What kind of gift is that for a little kid? I had to read it to find out. The Lego set disappeared the next year, piece by piece every time my parents stepped on one with bare feet. But the birds are still flying around in my head, the dinosaurs still roaming the Earth.
What do I want? Maybe it's something I don't even know I want. Maybe that's what Christmas really means. My wife got me a smart phone last year, even though she knows that I would only use a cell phone if my car was stuck in a ditch somewhere. Why would someone dig a ditch right next to the road like that? It's a good thing I have a cell phone with me so that I can call the Highway Department and ask them that. If I had remembered to charge the phone I could have a civil conversation with a civil engineer. As the year went by I found myself using it for more and more things, and something I never knew I wanted became something I could lovingly take for granted. Last week I was able to use it to take a picture of my thumb. Progress is my New Year's resolution.
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