to me, that gift. As I reflect upon and try to piece it together, I believe I was 10 years old that Christmas. While I was coming to peace with a new understanding of Santa Claus, I was still awed by the sheer magic of the season. The bounty of it all. My sister was 3 years younger then me (she still is actually). I can remember the magic of the last few days before Christmas. The front room darkened with only the Christmas tree lights filling the room in their multi colored glow. My sister and I lay on our stomachs a respectful distance away, heads propped up on hands as we discussed the Christmas crop that year.
“I got 12 presents this year” she said coolly.
Under the tree there was a very clear organization – on one side where hers, the other side were mine. There was also order from back to front. Typically the ones in the back were from our Aunts and other distant relatives. They would have arrived in early Dec. to much fanfare and the obligatory gift caressing/divining ritual. In looking back on my attitude towards this group of gifts, I am a bit ashamed. Since there was so much distance in both miles and mindset, these were typically very generic. I can remember a divining session that went something like this:
crinkle crinkle, caress – “These are socks”
next, Smooth and hard, hands running along the edge of the package “Book” – gift returned to the back of the tree.
Small package, dense but not heavy, ” Wallet from Avon”
Rectangle box about 12 by 8 and 2 inches deep – embossed lettering obvious to the touch just under the thin wrapping
“Shirt, pants, or the ever popular underware/ tshirt care package “ from JCPenny of course. My mom always seemed to really appreciate these gifts – upon our opening she would always comment “Well, you can certainly use that.” I am sure that we sent an equally high quality set of gifts to our cousins. But my point is – while they were fun to open – these items were quickly set down without much consideration. For karmic reasons – I feel compelled to say
” Grandma, Aunts, Uncles and family friends whose names I don’t even remember – Thanks for thinking of me back then. While then I didn’t appreciate the time and money you spent on sending me a gift – I do now.” There, that’s out of the way.. shall we continue?
So by the 2 days before Christmas, my sister and I would have everything pretty much cased out. Sometimes the mystery gifts developed little tears in them in strategic places – this was more my sisters tactic them mine. Needless to say the cat was always blamed. The cat typically received nothing for Christmas – I don’t know whether that was because he was of a different belief system or the fact he would typically knock the tree over at least once a week. He didn’t seem to care much anyway.
So with all the gifts divined – there wasn’t much left to do but figure and wait. Of course during this time, the opening priorities were set. The mystery gifts made their way to the front of the tree. They were visited often – right after school, just before bed, in the middle of the night, during a break in the Sat. morning cartoon marathon – I think you get the picture.
So to my sisters comment of the quantity of her gifts – which by the way, out numbered mine by three, I only had one thing to say:
“Well, I’m getting a new bike this year.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am, I asked Dad and he said he would think about it. – That’s why I only 9 and you have 12”.
” I want a bike”
“Too bad and too late. You should have asked sooner.”
“that’s not fair” and with that she rolled over and went upstairs to her room. And so we passed those 2 painful days before Christmas eve. On Christmas eve, my dad would disappear right after breakfast. I now realize that he was out shopping. Back then I thought he was going to work. I spent those last few hours snooping about in all the places you might hide a bike. I assure you – it was well hidden. Santa wink wink would show up and all bets were off. Ten speed baby, big kids bike.
So it’s the big day and we open all our presents. I for the life of me, couldn’t tell you what I got. Well, except for the gift that I have never really understood. This is how it went down.
My sister was finishing opening her presents from the family and Santa Claus. Since my gift numbers were down that year, I was forced to be pleasant and in the keeping with the season – feign interest in her bounty. I was watching my Dad though, the old man always had a trick up his sleeve – just when you thought it was over – he would speak up and sort of set the stage with a few leading words -and then viola – like a magician pulling a bouquet of flowers out of now where – boom – the coup de grace of Christmas. He enjoyed that, you could tell from the lilt in his voice and the twinkle his face got. So, out of the corner of my eye, I watched him for these tell tale signs. For the signal that the bike was about to be wheeled in with it’s oversized red bow and gleaming chrome and painted steel. Oh, just a few more minutes and …
” Well, Merry Christmas everyone.” my mom got up to start cooking dinner. My sister scooped up her stuff and bundled it up to her room. And my Dad, my Dad got up and headed towards the basement. I sat there, with my new socks, wallet from Avon, and my new knit pullover from JCPenny with the fake leather patches on the elbows and the oversized zipper pull. Waiting.
And then the room was empty. So…no bike. I looked at the pile of stuff at my feet. All good stuff in it’s own right, but no blockbuster Christmas – no bragging rights on the playground, no cool items that I could take over to my friends house later on. And with that Christmas was over. It has seemed a lot more exciting before the presents had been unwrapped. That is when it had so much potential. Now, it just was. These were simply possession that needed to take their place in my already crowded sock drawer, closet, or bookshelf.
“Hey, I almost forgot.” my Dad said as he walked up the steps and into the living room.
Yeah, I bet you almost forgot – I thought to myself as a huge grin broke across my face. “Forgot what?” I asked trying not to sound like I was expecting anything.
“I have something else for you.” Dad – you are the man!
He makes his way to the front room closet. Wow! I never even thought to look in there for a ten speed bike, but wait…a ten speed bike wouldn’t fit….
The door opens and he’s standing in front of it. I see him bend over and scrounge about for a brief moment before he rights himself and closes the door, whatever he has pulled from the closet is being held in front of him. It all happens so fast that I’m not quite sure what to say as he turns to face me and hands me:
handle bars for a ten speed bike.
they are like a set of cold, silver, big ram horns. Bereft of grips, those little caps you put in the ends, or the bike they should be attached to. Simply the handle bars. Not even wrapped. I’m speechless as I reach out and accept this gift. I realize that there has been some misunderstanding. I had clearly stated – ten speed bike. I had never asked for the handle bars of a ten speed bike. How had this happened?
“Merry Christmas buddy.” he tousled my hair and went back down stairs.
“thanks” I say weakly.
I stood there staring at this gift for a while. What the hell was I supposed to do with this? Suddenly my pile of useless gifts, wallets, socks, book – seemed to worthwhile. I could actually do something with them. But a set of handlebars for a ten speed bike? Typically these are attached to bikes. Without a bike – they aren’t even good paperweights. I held them like you would if you were actaully riding a bike- tried to figure something useful to do with them – then I gave up. I scooped up my stuff and took it up stairs. The socks and other items were put away. The handle bars went into the floor of my closet. I can still picture them now in there many years later. They were hanging on the wall of the garage the day I left for college. They are probably still there even though my parents no longer own the house.
So, to this day – I have never figured this one out. Was my Dad trying to teach me a lesson? Did he intend to buy a bike in pieces and have some bonding time for us to put it together? Was it a test of self sufficiency that I failed? Was I supposed to take some intuitive and find a bike to go with these handles? Was it a joke that I just didn’t get? Did he really think that was what I wanted? I don’t know the answer to these questions. But I do know this:
From that Christmas forward, I was never in a rush to open the presents. I learned to delay the opening of them as long as I could. I learned to savor their mystery and appreciate the fact that it would all be over too soon – that the world would return to the everyday grind in just a matter of a few short moments. That the only thing that separated a gift from a everyday item was a thin paper wrapping. I learned that I should appreciate even the most mundane gift because it wasn’t about what was inside them, but the fact that they were there at all.
Perhaps that gift was more useful then I thought.
At least I remember it.
I have to ask my Dad about it. Maybe I did ask for handlebars. oh well.
