On Giving

At heart I'm really a generous guy. I want to pick up the tab at dinner. I want to buy a round of drinks. If I could, I'd be that guy who would buy friends and family gifts for no other reason than I thought they might like the gift.

One might find this hard to believe considering the verbal paroxysms I go through throughout the entire Christmas advertising season and again during the Valentines day blitz. (Just thinking about the entire diamonds are forever ad campaign makes me want to scream. I go full adbusters mode wihch could send me into the dual rant of the over inflated value of a shiny rock and the rant agaisnt advertisement encroachment into every aspect of our day to day lives, but I will desist at this time if people will think about picking up No Logo: No Space, No Choice, No Jobs by Naomi Klein at their local library). It is not that I'm against owning stuff and buying stuff. I like stuff. I want stuff. On more than one occasion I've considered adding an Amazon wishlist to this thing on the off chance that people may decide to buy me stuff. I hate things like fashion seasons and planned obsolescence. I hate yearly models of cars, corporate logos on the television station and the practice of corporate sponsored events.

So anyway what has me thinking about the entire gift thing is that my mother's birthday is tomorrow. As a man without a job, or a source of income, it is not expected of me, to be providing a sizable gift. In years past I would shave off my moustache and beard on my mothers birthday so that at least for one day a year I would look like her baby boy. This doesn't really work very well anymore as shaving off the beard doesn't drop ten years off my face the way it used to (I get two maybe three tops now and a second chin from neck fat. Why must neck fat be one of the last parts of weight loss?). On top of that, I got my face good and sunburned while I was hanging out in Lake Michigan a couple weeks back. If I were to save off my beard I would have an odd tan outline of wear my beard was. It would look just plain stupid.

So I think to myself, I really don't need to get her anything. I'm here with her every day. I make her dinner. I fetch things from the store. I am on call for whatever she may need. Still that wouldn't be right. So I look in my wallet and think I have enough to pick up a nice card from the store. Heck I can even risk my father's wrath and buy her a package of hostess ho ho's. I'd get her a full ten pack, but she would just eat em all and that wouldn't be good for the old blood sugar.

I know my mother would love that. It is after all her favorite junk food. I still can not help but wish I had a few dollars of my own, not the change from doing their errands but dollars earned by my own labor to pick out something outrageous and maybe even extravagant. She did give me life after all. And there was all that raising me and the Catholic school education. (I may have a few choice words about the church from time to time, but sending three boys to that kind of private education was not a small sacrifice for my parents. It was a lot of work and energy and the education far outweighs whatever neurotic guilt complexes the religion gave me). Oh and the unconditional love, never been lacking in that area either.

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