About Buying Gifts

by Linda Trytek

My mom was the perfect gift buyer. She knew what my heart desired without having to be told. She made the holidays magic because each beautifully wrapped gift was just right - a glamorous makeup kit for a shy teenager, that book you couldn't wait to read or longed-for toy that was out of stock.

Mom worked long hours to afford those lovely gifts. Once I asked her to stop going to work so I could spend more time with her.

"Don't you like all your nice things?" she asked.

And I told her, "I'd rather have you."

My dad was the world's worst gift buyer. He bought presents he secretly wanted for himself. He bought my sister and me trains, wagons and tractors and then spent more time playing with them than we did. He bought my mom a nonstick frying pan for Christmas because he wanted to make pancakes.

But Dad gave us a gift Mom couldn't - he had all the time in the world for us. He had time to tramp barefoot through mud puddles. He had time to catch lightning bugs and to walk all the way to Dairy Queen and back on hot summer nights. And he had time to tell stories and to listen to us.

To be perfect, a gift has to be about the person receiving it. That's what my mom taught me. But some of the most memorable gifts don't come wrapped in fancy paper. Sometimes the best gift is simply yourself. And that's what my dad taught me.