Coonridge Digest: Holiday or hullabaloo

Greetin’s from the Ridge.

I’ve just read another ‘Practical Guide to Christmas Shopping,’ which, like all other practical guides to Christmas shopping, included everything but practicality.

I suppose the very term is a contradiction. If Christmas were truly practical we’d concern ourselves with the holiday instead of the hullabaloo. But, since the big retailers have convinced us that spending large amounts of cash is the secret to keeping the economy strong, and our own foolishness has persuaded us that extravagant spending is the way to show love, we will spend on.

If we must, here’s a truly practical guide to Christmas shopping:

—Does the world need one more mobile phone? In a generation where approximately every third person claims an Attention Deficit Disorder, do we need one more thing to distract our attention from what’s going on? We’re fast approaching the day when every hospital maternity ward will pass out a cell phone to each newborn, marking the occasion the way we used to celebrate potty training and taking the first step.

Oh yes…I know. What if little Bubba or Beulah are in trouble and need to call home? My guess is that they can do it without built-in video, text messaging, and iPod combination.

—Speaking of iPod. What does one do with a thousand songs? Who knows a thousand songs? What are you missing in the real world while your ear is plugged in to a thousand songs? And what do the thousands songs have to do with Joy to the World?

—The newest version of Microsoft’s X-Box is predicted to be one of the top gifts this Christmas. Sweet. The precious few hours that the typical American family spends together can now be tossed aside as Junior retreats to his room while Mom and Dad enjoy their new plasma television. Is there any gift that actually draws the American family together? Perhaps they can meet for Sunday brunch to go over the credit card bills.

So what would she have us do? Freida seems to dislike all sorts of giving. Nay, befuddled friend, she loves giving. It’s the buying she doth detest.

I know a local couple who wrap up the bulk of their Christmas giving in one glorious evening as they host their friends to a holiday dinner. Two simple rules for the evening: Show up in a loving mood, and bring a gift that you have made yourself. True, the problem of actually making a gift often causes more consternation than a trip to the gadget store, but oh, the joys of watching the gifts being displayed as each recipient comes forward one at a time and unwraps the genuine expressions of love.

I love Byron Samuels’ gifts. Byron’s the handyman-about-town, and he starts most sentences with, “Well, here’s the deal.” Byron send out about twenty-some cards to the folks in our town who aren’t as physically able as they’d wish, and each card says, “Well, here’s the deal. I’m gonna come do a day’s work for you this coming year. You just tell me about when and about what you want done and I’ll expect coffee and cookies to get me through the day. Merry Christmas. Signed, Byron Samuels.” And like as not, the recipients appreciate the day’s worth of conversation as much as the back steps he’s repaired.

A good friend of mine left our community exactly 20 years ago. Before she took off, she wrote me a Christmas letter. She didn’t Xerox 400 copies and mail them out, she simply wrote me a letter reliving the joys and sorrows we’d shared. She talked about our long talks on the front porch, our late night calls fretting over church business, our silly worries over troubles long past.

I have no idea what other gift I received in the Christmas of 1985, but I have her letter still.

I’m sure I received doodads that have now worked their way through three generations of garage sales, clothing that’s now on its second trip through the clothing department of the Salvation Army, and candy that caused me to give away the clothing in the first place. But I have her words. She ended the letter with, “I thought about what to give you this Christmas, but like my clothing, nothing fit. I thought that maybe this little note might sum up Christmas and our friendship better. Hope you don’t mind.”

No, I didn’t. Instead of letting K-Wal-Co-Circuit-Barn express her love, she gave herself. Considering the purpose of the first Christmas, that wasn’t a bad gift at all. Practical, you might say.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.