Love, Scott
by Scott Hardie on December 6, 2009
Today is my mother Joan's 70th birthday. I wish her all the happiness in the world, but the occasion brings me feelings of guilt, for I have nothing to give her. Partly that because of bad timing, since she's on a cruise with her boyfriend Andy at the moment. But I could have prepared in advance by giving her some flowers or a gift, or taken her out to dinner, and I let myself be too busy.
Why is gift-giving so compulsory in our family? We're not demonstrative of our emotions, so perhaps it's how we communicate affection. I don't know why, but whenever I skip a gift, it feels like I've just slaughtered an innocent creature; the guilt is overwhelming.
When I was little, my paternal grandmother's sister Margaret would send me a card for every single holiday; we're talking Valentine's Day and Halloween, even obscure ones like May Day. Sometimes there would be a few dollars inside and sometimes it would just be a card with "Love, Aunt Margaret" written under the printed message, but she never, ever missed a holiday. I hadn't even met the woman. The night she died when I was ten, I broke out sobbing because I never got a chance to tell her thank you or I love you too or these cards meant so much to me. I didn't even realize that they did until she died. I never sent her anything back.
My mother's side of the family is pretty good about keeping up with gifts, but it's really just my mother and her sister Suzie. Every year, Suzie sends us a big package full of presents "from" her husband and her kids and now maybe even her grandkids, but it's clear that she chose and bought and wrapped everything. My mother does the same thing back, signing gifts from me and from my father when he was alive and now from her boyfriend. I have no idea what I give my cousins every year; maybe I'll ask them on Facebook what they got. Some years ago, when I became an adult with my own job and income, I bought all of the family's gifts myself one Christmas, because I was tired of being complicit in this charade. But I gave up trying to fight it every year since, because my mom and Suzie have such an efficient system and it's still a hell of a lot of work to choose and find and buy and wrap and send everything. How do they do it? More importantly, why do they do it? Why do they feel obligated to continue? I like my cousin Lisa fine, but I've seen her exactly twice in the last ten years and I don't really know her, so why does "she" continue to send me a couple of CDs or DVDs or books from my Amazon wish list every December? I appreciate the stuff; I'm just mystified by the pretense and the compulsory nature of the giving. If Suzie passes away, Lisa will probably have to take up the annual giving on their side of the family, because there are several families involved in that massive swap and there are too many kids and grandkids involved. But on our side, if my mom passes away, how can I possibly keep up? Will Lisa's grandkids get cards every year from some "Uncle Scott" they've never heard of until he dies and they finally notice his existence?
I always feel this way in December, but I feel it especially strongly this year because Kelly and I have been broke for most of the year. After she was laid off in January, we fell behind on bills for a while, so gifts just weren't happening. She's back to work now and we're paying off the credit cards that carried us, but I still find it very hard to click the "confirm order" button at Amazon on any kind of present, especially when the occasion is obligatory. I haven't even begun to buy holiday presents yet, even though I pretty much know what I'm going to buy for everyone and I have the money. It's just no fun any more.
And so we come back to today's big birthday. I was a broke college student when my mom turned 60, so I spent six months selling things on eBay and slowly saving enough money to buy her a DVD player, devices that were still new and expensive at the time. The gift had the big impact that I had hoped. Am I holding myself up to a bar set high ten years ago? How could I? Today she has money and buys whatever her heart desires, and Andy keeps her happy; I'm no longer the man in her life. There's no object I could give her that she would want. Sure, I can pick out some arbitrary stuff for Christmas presents, some books or movies or something; that's easy. But today she's 70, and I'm supposed to find something that shows her how important she is to me, and I have nothing to give and no way to give it.
In a few hours, I'm going to call her. By the time she returns from her cruise next week, I'll think of something. I have to.
Four Replies to Love, Scott
Dave Stoppenhagen | December 7, 2009
Every year the only thing my Grandmother-in-law just wants a phone call and flowers, she says she's to old for more things and just wants to be remembered. That and for someone to take her to the Casino's, but since she's in Southern California she gets the flowers and a phone call.
Lori Lancaster | December 7, 2009
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Jackie Mason | December 12, 2009
[hidden by author request]
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
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Steve West | December 6, 2009
Give her what she wants. I'm guessing that's you. Brenda says that when she gets to be that age, memories will be her best gift - photos presented in creative ways, an electronic slideshow, etc. My suggestion is to ask if Kelly's ovulating. "Yeah, Mom! Your grandchild was conceived on your birthday!" Seriously though, let her know, really know, how much you love her. I know you can do that.