Some people have a wonderful talent for selecting just the right gift for friends and family. They remember a longing glance through a store window or a comment in a conversation. They match the glance, the comment, the interest with a gift some time in the future.
My mother-in-law was a great gift giver. She enjoyed finding cute clothes and special toys for the kids. As seasons changed there would be a box filled with items. She had the knack of picking items my kids adored. She and Granddaddy Bates took the boys on the last steam train trip between Gaffney and Spartanburg. She bought Star Wars swords.
One Christmas this was a personal challenge. My shopping was done. Frances wanted to know what to buy and I just could not think of one more item. I told her I had just bought a yellow school bus for Andy because he played with one like it at mother's morning out.
She misunderstood and rushed out to buy him one. I had to return mine.
I felt like a spoiled kid. While Andy would not remember who gave him the toy, I wanted it to be a gift from me! It would be a favorite toy. Logic and emotion can be miles apart. I wanted to be grateful for her thoughtfulness and I wanted to be understanding of her desire to give the "special gift". I was not proud of my feelings, but there I was stuck with trying to be better than I was. I guess I remember this mostly because I struggled with my feelings.
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When I was a teen, my parents gave me a cultured pearl necklace for my birthday. It was my go to jewelry for Sunday dresses and special occasions for years. It was always returned to the special black velvet box.
Babies love to play with mom's earrings and necklaces. One Sunday in Rock Hill Andy tugged and broke mine. The pearls went flying. After church I made sure to gather all the pearls. I took them home with plans to have them restrung. Young marrieds have many budget needs and restringing pearls didn't seem that important.
Several years later planting flowers along the front sidewalk when I found a strand of five or six pearls. Immediately I knew these were "my" pearls. I summoned Matt and Andy, who must have been 7 or 8, to ask them how they came to be outside.
Matt's quick response. They were buried treasure. No idea where the others were buried.
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Like most kids I really looked forward to my birthday. My Christmas birthday always seemed less significant than the holiday. I really looked forward to turning thirteen, a teen.
However, I was really upset that day with my dad. Now 99% of kids understand that parents have to work on their birthday. One thing that makes a Christmas birthday tolerable is family can all be there together. (Please understand I am recounting how I saw things at thirteen.) However, my dad had to work that day. He was "Officer of the Day" at Ft Benning. He was stand-in for the Commanding General. I suppose if Russia had declared war; my dad would have been in charge (until he made a phone call to the commanding general).
A car driven by MP's came to pick him up to chauffer him to work. He wore side arms. This was the only time I recall that happening. He was gone all day!
What was my reaction? I huffed and puffed and acted like he chose to work that day. So you ask, what does this have to do with gifts? Well my dad had bought me the necklace above. It was a Sara Coventry necklace with two teen's dancing with a juke box. The links were adjustable to go from a necklace to a bracelet. I would look like the guys on American Bandstand when I wore it.
Was I appreciative of the effort he had gone to buy it? Nope. I wanted to punish him because he had not arranged to be home. Wow. I guess I thought that would show him.
In the spring our family went to visit Spartanburg and see my Dad's family. My aunt Ruby asked me how I liked the necklace? She told me how excited he had been when he ordered it for me.
I felt so ashamed of how I had acted. Suddenly the necklace seemed much more important.
