I received some lovely gifts for Christmas. I'd tell you about them, but I'm wary of implicitly creating the appearance that I favour the relentlessly consumerist flavour that Christmas has attained recently. (When I say recently, I am of course referring to the last century or so.)
Unwittingly seeming in favour of consumerism is the last thing I'd like to do, when in reality, I want to appear unstintingly and unoquivocally in support of it; in fact, I think a massive and sweeping expansion is required urgently. To that end, I'd like to see the festive season commence no later than January 15, before concluding on December 25. Forget the twelve days of Christmas - I think 344 days has a much nicer ring to it. The revised "344 days of Christmas" song might cause the odd fatality if injudiciously sung without the necessary supplies (food, water, first aid) on hand, but I think that's a small price to pay.
We are a society of people who like giving gifts. Or better yet, who like to be seen to like giving gifts. Because we often lack the requisite sense of self to be valued for who we are, we give gifts, and enjoy the ensuing warmth for what we have given (or done) rather than suffer the embarrassment of being valued for who we are. We are also on occasion, lazy, and hope that gift-giving will act as a kind of barrier for other social obligations, such as civility or general fondess for relatives and family members. It's easier to give an annual gift- or better yet, annual gift voucher- than seed and nurture a relationship of genuine growth.
Obviously, this isn't always the case; we buy many (well, a couple) of gifts out of genuine warmth. And we buy many gifts - even for those we truly love - under considerable duress. How often have we proclaimed that a particular person is so hard to buy for? I've lost count, myself. And yet, I'm yet to meet a person who doesn't use anything. It's just that Christmas gifts need to be of an elusive type; wanted, but not really needed. As such, we can blunder about for days on end, wearily dragging ourselves from mall to mall, before finally settling on yet another barbeque set for Dad, despite knowing full well that the given to him last year cannot possibly yet have rusted, even if it had spent the better part of the last twelve months in a barrel of brine.
Gift-giving brings with it a certain responibility for equanimity. It's a little embarrassing to be given a dining set that one doesn't need, in a colour one despises, but it's all the worse if one has given a teapot in return. It's a complex business, fraught with emotional risk, which is perhaps a little surprising for an excerise often derided as being pointlessly commercial.
In fact, it's often hard enough to decide who to buy for, nevermind selecting the gifts themselves. Most people probably level out at buying for between four to eight people, with an exceptional few who might buy for around fifteen or so. In my newly expanded festive season, that's not going to cut it. But if you multiply four by eight, and then by fifteen, I reckon you'll be getting close to the newly revised average. Yep; 480 gifts seems about right.
Now, I know that many of you are likely to proclaim that you don't even know 480 people. A cursory glance at the number of friends you have on facebook is likely to call your protestations into question, I'm sure. And what about all the other people you value in your life? Hairdressers, gardeners, former school-teachers, the taxi-driver who drove you whom when you were profoundly inebriated, the hung over vet who lanced that anal boil on your beloved pet on Boxing Day; all are worthy of a pressie in Yuletide 2.0.
I'm sure you're wondering where you're going to find the time to buy 480 gifts? I was wondering that, too, which is why I've thoughtfully expanded the festive season to 344 days. If you buy three gifts every two days, you'll romp it in. It'll probably leave less time for you to spend on yourself, but that's small price to pay, isn't it?
And anyway, what's the point of time, when you've got no money? 480 gifts aren't going to fall from the sky. Thought you could do it on the cheap? Hmm. Not quite. The standard gift needs to be worth about $50, times the number of years of association. So if you're my age, a parental gift is going to cost $1800. A bit steep, but not too bad. But I admit; once I've fulfilled my gift-giving obligations, there's not going to be a lot left over for yours, truly. And I think most folk are going to be in the same boat. So I guess we'd better know people well enough to ensure gifts are actually needed and wanted, lest we end up with 40-odd barbecue sets, but no barbecue, and no food!
See, the spirit of giving could actually transcend the consumerist bubble that has subsumed it, if we work at it. But it'll need to actively become a part of who we are, rather than a domesticated ritual of grab, wrap and give. The other option might be to give of spirit; after all, no grandparent really wants handkerchiefs; they want time with their grandchildren.
So perhaps that idea could be kicked around for a bit; giving of the self - one's time, talents and love, to all who matter to us. For that, I'd be prepared to decrease the expected gift-count. How does 344 sound? That works out to just the one nice act per day of the festive season; one act of giving, forgiveness or generosity for each person who matters to us. Anyone who thinks that would make the world a shoddier place, please raise your hand.
Alright then! If you'll excuse me, I've got some planning to do. The Christmas season is right round the corner, you know....
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