Giving

 

Up to a red morning sky in the east all full of anticipation. Somewhere along my years I had this small epiphany that the simple pleasure of Christmas is in anticipation. Not in the conventional sense that everyone will assume, anticipation of presents we will receive. That certainly is true for the little ones. But for most of us I think the pleasure of anticipation moves from thinking of what we will get to anticipating the pleasure of what we will  give. It isn't necessarily joy. Joy seems more fitting for that other anticipation, the coming of the baby Jesus. But delight, a delight that lets the giver know they did a good job of giving.

After a late Christmas breakfast we headed upstairs to the tree with anticipation. We all watch each other with an extra alertness. When the receiver shows genuine delight the giver gets the special treat of sharing the pleasure. Sometimes the giver is even more pleased than the receiver often offering some little anecdote about how just that present came to be chosen. Pleased. Warm feelings all around. We should do Christmas more often.

Today Will seems particularly delighted with his new soup pot and the cookbook that goes with it. He and his girlfriend enjoy cooking and make delicious soup. Will has some of Dan’s gourmet chef inclinations. But where Dan’s recipes tend towards L. L. Bean game cooking or James Beard, Will and Jessica like Thai and Indian with ingredients like coconut milk and Wasabi sauce. Dan was pleased that William was pleased and was getting into the virtues of the pot, pointing out the important features to the extent a pot can have features, saying something about always having  the best equipment for the job.

Will was opening another present. I waited and there it was, genuine delight. Success I almost didn’t have. I had gone to the bookstore for a different book which they didn’t have in stock. The clerk, to be  helpful, walked me to the best seller table. There before me a whole shelf seemingly arranged by some Christmas grinch of books by authors who make a living spewing hate. It was so stark and disturbing that they should all come together  at the same place at Christmas time. Where was the peace and joy. I turned to head for the register for my other purchases when a little book in the middle of a hapless pile on a messy table practically jumped into my hand. “Waiting for Superman”. I knew right away he would be pleased.
So it went. All the little presents. We left the really big ones in town because we really couldn’t fit anything else in the car and Will had solved that problem  by putting little notes in tiny stockings hanging on the tree about the gifts he left at home. And I could see the pleasure of his anticipation as he handed them out.

Every Christmas has its unique funny little glitch. The kind of story that starts
“ remember that Christmas when”.  This Christmas it was the girl with the tattoo. I gave one to Dan and one to William. He gave one to me and one to Dan. Dan gave one to William and one to me. Fun.

Tomorrow we'll all head back to town for a rather anti-climatic second day of gift giving. An old fashoined boxing day. Will has to go back to school in California. It's been a very good stay.