Diary of a bad housewife: The many happy returns of Christmas

Some people are very good at Christmas presents. The rest of us spend the final days wandering those shops filled with driftwood, raffia hats, limed objects and false promise. We can be in there for hours, trapped in a highly scented nightmare of gift paralysis until we remember it's the thought that counts and so maybe the oil-burner, the dolphin-shaped soap dish or the wooden thing will do nicely after all. For someone.

It's lucky that the wrong gift at Christmas is a time-honoured yuletide tradition, observed by millions of families around the world. S told me she got an iron one year as her Christmas present. Her husband said she was always complaining about the ironing. He wanted her to know he'd "been listening".

Once upon a time people knew they had to at least pretend to like the gift.Credit:Christina Zimpel

Once upon a time, everyone knew they had to at least pretend  to like the gift. On Boxing Day, they would put it away in a cupboard for eternity or until it was safe to re-gift. Now, between family or close friends at least, a new truthfulness – ruthlessness? – seems to be creeping in. I've heard of households where the ribbon is barely off before somebody is asking if they can exchange it. Even small children have grown awfully picky. Once, an orange in their stocking would have brought a grateful smile to their tiny, shining faces – in Dickens, anyway. Now they demand an Apple.

The whole thanks-but-it's-not-really-me thing is so entrenched that people know how much stuff they're going to take back even before they get it. I read a survey of consumers worldwide that found, several months out from Christmas 77 per cent already planned to return a portion of their gifts and nearly 20 per cent expected to return more than half.

I'm picturing the Three Wise Men arriving at Bethlehem and Mary saying, "The gold is so thoughtful but, to be honest, we're not really into myrrh – embalming oil? Hello! – and Joseph's allergic to frankincense. Did you keep the receipts by any chance?"

The whole business of gift-giving, at any time, is complicated. Why do we get it so wrong? Why does the exchange of gifts matter so much to some people and not to others? Why can some give generously but find it hard to receive? Or vice versa, like my cousin who admits she buys "gifts" in her size and colours so she won't have to actually give them away.

Joseph’s allergic to frankincense. Did you keep the receipts by any chance?

Some fine minds have tackled the subject. Even Emerson wrote an essay on it back in 1844, after finding he was generally stumped when it came to gift ideas. The philosopher concluded that, once you got beyond gifts of mere necessity, a gift ought to convey something that "properly belonged to [a man's] character and was easily associated with him in thought".

Cancel the golf clubs or the emergency trip to Tiffany's, however, because Ralph Waldo goes on to say: "…our tokens of compliment and love are for the most part barbarous. Rings and other jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts.

"The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a gem; the sailor, coral and shells; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing. This is right and pleasing, for it restores society … to its primary basis, when a man's biography is conveyed in his gift, and every man's wealth is an index of his merit. But it is a cold, lifeless business when you go to the shops to buy me something, which does not represent your life and talent, but a goldsmith's."

History doesn't record what Mrs E made of this hard line on jewels and goldsmiths, and it's not always easy to come up with a lamb or sew a handkerchief these days, but I see what he means. It isn't about show. It isn't about stuff. It's about the felt transaction between giver and receiver.

One Christmas years ago, I suggested to the grown-ups that instead of buying gifts for each other we give the money to a charity or cause of choice. It struck me as a cunning plan that would simultaneously help others, put us on the high moral ground and save time in driftwood shops. The idea wasn't a hit. And as I was the only one who went with it, I became the empty-handed Grinch who killed Christmas.

Now many charities offer ethical gifts and vouchers, so at very least there are heart-warming cards to put under the tree, telling the recipients they've bought a family a goat or funded a girl's education. (Throw in a $10 Kris Kringle if someone needs to hear the sound of tearing paper.) It saves a lot of landfill and queueing at the returns counter. I'm also sure it's what the baby Jesus would have wanted us to do: help build a village well, not create an Amazon wishlist.

Bah humbug, in a good way.

This is my final column for these pages, so Merry Christmas and happy holidays, and best wishes for a wonderful 2020.

Source: Read Full Article