It was obvious that I was an afterthought. The chump that
didn’t quite make the A-list. The recipient of all gifts that weren’t
impressive enough to display on varnished bookshelves, but were two-times
removed from the goodwill pile.
“Oh no, honey, don’t toss that Creed Greatest Hits CD! Fresh
ribbon and some holiday tape and that’s a Christmas gift in the making.”
Good God, why.
I was the ultimate sucker this Christmas, bearing thoughtful
gifts that my hands bore out of love and sleeplessness. And in return? Most
notably I unwrapped athletic socks fashioned in bulk—likely purchased on a
last minute mommy-needs-forty-more-pounds-of-ham Costco run—and a polka dotted
Kate Spade Caboodle equipped with a gift receipt from 2010. Personal.
I won’t say that I was upset, I wasn’t even disappointed. It
was laughable, really, how obvious it was that those gift-givers a) knew
nothing about me and/or b) weren’t bothered to make a positive, lasting
impression. Oh no, I was just another stocking to stuff, and they were one step
closer to getting to the bottom of their fourteen foot-long Christmas list, one
recycled gift at a time.
Christmas can go one of two ways. It can be that magical day
where everywhere you look, carolers with perfect intonation gather around a
controlled open fire browning their Chestnuts and laughing all the way. Or it
can be an absolute train wreck. A monumental disaster amplified by diva
attitudes, unrealistic expectations, and drunken uncles that by some strange
twist of cosmic energy, still wear bibs at the dinner table.
Mine was the latter. Until a dear friend made like Jeannette
Isabella and brought a torch to light my way back to merriment. He shared with
me how his family started a tradition three years back: The music exchange.
No material gifts. No lavish bows or $45 rolls of wrapping
paper, and most certainly no mindless and meaningless re-gifting.
Each member of the family makes a CD of the songs that got
them through the year – a soundtrack to the good, the bad and the ugly – and
distributes them on Christmas day. This way, the entire family walks to the
beat of one another’s drummer boy, getting to know each other on a deeper level
– albeit tacitly understood. They can
choose to read between the lines or not. They can take songs literally, or
fabricate backstories and the motives behind the careful selections.
How intimate, I thought. How vulnerable, and genuine, and
compelling. A real gift.
The irony of it all is that making a CD involves a single
raw material, and almost no cost. It’s just time and thoughtfulness. So many
people break their backs and banks to deliver a meaningful experience, when
really all they have to do is take a step back. Listen. Care.
It was then, as I was playing the CD my friend made for me
as an honorary member of the family, that I realized brands are alarmingly like
frenetic fa-la-la-ers. They’ve been
dishing out the fat packs of Costco socks, repurposing content in bulk, and
ultimately leading us all to unimpressive, impersonal experiences. In doing so,
they prove that they’re not bothered to get to know consumers on personal
levels. That they’re disinterested. That
they’re on their own agendas with their own laundry lists of chicken scratched
bullet points to cross off.
If only brands would slow their rolls and stir up content
that’s personal. That matters. That makes a difference and helps people feel
like they’re walking in each other’s shoes, dancing to each other’s tunes and
seeing eye to eye.
God rest ye merry gentlemen, that day will happen! And when
it does, it’ll feel like Christmas.
Now do tell, little elves. Does your family have any
sentimental gift giving traditions, or any new ones on the horizon?
by Nicole Varvitsiotes
image from Design Sponge Hand Made Gift Guide
