Wheaton’s Way: Gifts that keep on giving

It was my birthday this week (no, no … applause not necessary, I’m just a mere mortal), which also marked the start of my vacation with best friend Lynne.

No greater gift to give myself than the mad flurry of extra work and laundry that needed to be completed before wheels-up. At least the immediate threat of a hurricane had dissipated by the previous weekend. I swear, I could not believe it when I saw that red band heading towards the Caribbean. To add insult to injury, one of the official reports said, “It is expected to become a hurricane by 10 Sept. (my birthday) and will be named ‘Gabrielle’ (my sister’s name).” It felt downright personal.

Obviously, we still have a lot of season left to go, but I’m hopeful things will be quiet while we’re away. Then I’ll come back with a renewed energy, prepared to haggle over the prices of plywood until 30 Nov.

On a side note, did you know that 10 Sept. is the climatological peak date for the Atlantic hurricane season? I am all kinds of lucky to be around.

When we were kids, what did we really want for our birthdays? I went through my Barbie phase like so many others. No doubt, there are still corners in homes we occupied where new owners will find one of her shoes lodged under the carpet.

As I got older, along with my siblings, we hoped for video games and a VCR (yes, that old). I will never forget when we got our first Atari game console. Holy cow! Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, Frogger! There was also a bizarre ‘E.T.’ one that was nearly impossible to follow. We never figured it out, beyond noting that there were areas to avoid and the flower was a good item to grab. He would never have got home if we were in charge.

Although we immediately dropped every book we’d been reading in order to play on the Atari as much as humanly possible between dawn and dusk, my parents weren’t fools.

There was now another bargaining chip in the house.

If you don’t: Do your homework/clean your room/wash the dog, no Atari for [enter suitable punishment length of time here].

Such has been the way since time began. Don’t clean the cave, no rock football. Don’t do the dishes, no iPad.

Once I was in my teens, I fell in love with jewellery. My ears were pierced, and I’d worn those tiny gold ‘age-appropriate’ balls in my lobes for an eternity. But now I wanted danglies … and maybe a necklace to match. So much of what we wanted when we were growing up was what we saw our friends having. Wasn’t that always the argument we’d try? “But Cathy* has one!”

“Well, if Cathy’s parents feel that a girl that age should have a gold bracelet worth hundreds of dollars, that’s their decision, but you’re not …”
Where was Matlock when we needed her? Probably the first lesson learned at law school was to never use the Cathy Gambit; you’d be on to a sure loser.

Year after year, birthdays would inevitably come like clockwork, and the gift-givers shifted from parents to boyfriends or friends. I had an extraordinary propensity for finding romantic partners that never stuck it out through a Valentine’s Day, birthday or Christmas, so I was the very definition of a cheap date.

I can’t really pinpoint when I stopped worrying so much about people recognising my birthday (Look at me! Look at me!), or getting gifts. I don’t mean that I didn’t love to receive greetings and such like, but if someone forgot, it wasn’t the end of the world, as it might have been when I was a child. With maturity came the realisation that a phone call, e-card or social media well-wishes were all I needed.

I always look forward to waking up on my birthday and seeing the hundreds (ahem) of messages sending me all the best. And my parents send me Jacquie Lawson e-cards, which are so fab. Honestly, you should take a look at them. With the way that post is being scrutinised and blocked these days, they may be a great alternative to the physical item. How long before there’s a $20 tariff on a Hallmark?

I’ve also happily embraced the radical notion that gift-giving can be optional. How many times have we bought a friend or family member a gift that they probably don’t want or need, but we’re running out of time, and money is short, and did we ever open that Glade candle on the bookshelf, or can we just re-wrap it? Nothing says “I care” like the scent of Musky Oats.

With everything as delightfully expensive as it is right now, do we really want a loved one choosing between petrol for their car or a bottle of Champagne to join the others we’ve already got?

Also, don’t underestimate the fun to be had with a simple, cheap prezzie. For my sister’s birthday party a few years back, I brought her a bag of rubber animal noses (elephant, rhino, lion) each with a piece of elastic that ran around the person’s head to secure the snout in place. I can’t remember the last time we’ve laughed that hard. I tell you, they were the great equalisers. No one around the table looked dignified and everyone loved them.

I’m not so focused on physical possessions as I was when I was younger. I owned some quite expensive jewellery years ago and, in one night’s burglary, it was all stolen. Funnily enough, it wasn’t the high-value items being taken that crushed me the most – it was the souvenir pieces I’d collected on my travels. They were irreplaceable.

So now, I concentrate on making memories with people I care about. Whether it’s a night out in Cayman or a trip, like I’m on at the moment – it’s the resulting photos, videos and great stories that you really can’t put a price on. They are truly the gifts that keep on giving.

Oh yes; and knees. New knees would be great.

*The ‘Cathy’ name is purely fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. (But I really envied her that bracelet.)