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Christmas shopping with Dad
Every year around Christmas, Dad becomes a man on a mission. To find a gift that will make Mom light up. This ability comes naturally to many men, but my dad has had to develop his shopping skills through trial and error. More error than trial, really. You see, while Dad adores Mom, he has no clue when it comes to gift-giving. This became glaringly apparent early in their marriage when he kept buying her power tools and kitchen appliances. It took him a few years to realize that if it comes with an extension cord, it does not qualify as a gift suitable for a wife. The family rumor says Mom made this point abundantly clear to Dad when she threatened to throw the next power tool he gave her at his head. And, no one wants to see a kitchen blender zinging through the air on Christmas morning--festive though it may be. Many years and many appliances later, Mom just gave up on Dad discovering the perfect gift on his own, and began dropping hints about potential presents like carpet bombs out of a B-52. "Dear, wouldn't that painting look nice in the living room, hanging on the wall above the sofa?" "Honey, this blouse is my size and it looks great on me, doesn't it?" "Larry, I, your wife, Nadene, would really like this necklace, page 32, of the Shepler's catalog, for Christmas, the celebration of Jesus' birthday, December 25, this year." Of course, that's Plan A. Plan B is where my sister Joni and I take Dad shopping on Christmas Eve looking for Mom's special present. Usually, it's a rush-rush, highly secret affair, and one for which we can never take credit. It's like a CIA commando mission in the mall without the camouflage face paint and two-way radios. Although, come to think of it, those might come in handy next year when Dad tries to ditch us to look at power tools. Joni and I pile in the pickup with Dad for a rushed Christmas Eve jaunt into town, armed with Mom's wishlist and Dad's checkbook. As Mom's daughters, it is our sworn biological duty to steer Dad away from the blatantly bad gift ideas such as scented candles and perfume for our allergy-prone mother and anything that isn't her style or taste. We shepherd him through the frou-frou section of the department stores, trying not to giggle at his deer-in-the-headlights gaze at the jewelry counter. We patiently lead him away from the temptation of the kitchen supply store where gifts with power cords await. And, instead, lead him carefully through a gift shop with delicate knick-knacks, like the proverbial bull. Finally, after five jewelry counters, four department stores, three western outlets, two hobby centers, and one pet shop in a mall, we have found the gift of gifts and are ready to go home to wrap it up for Mom. We've found it's best if one of us girls wraps Mom's gift. To leave Dad alone to wrap a present is asking for a conglomeration of duct tape and baling twine that could hold the space shuttle together. Christmas cheer for Dad means using a pocketknife to open presents Christmas Day. Better that one of us girls takes the duty before someone loses an eye under the tinsel. Of course, by the time we get the gift out of the car, into the house, past Mom and upstairs to be wrapped, the mission isn't so secret anymore and Mom knows what she's getting from Dad. All of the effort pays off on Christmas morning, though, when Mom unwraps her gift from Dad and says those few words the family hopes to hear.... "Oh, honey, it's just what I wanted. How did you ever guess?" Jennifer Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com. Date: 11/30/04
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