Nov 2010 // David Breitman
Marie Look
If I were supposed to come up with a wish list, well, that would certainly be a lot easier. But selecting a solitary item to receive in celebration of an entire year's passing and to fill my heart with joy for the year that's coming and possibly beyond? That requires some thought.
I'll tell you what I wouldn't ask for, though — anything that eats or excretes. No matter how cute it may be at first, that's not a gift, that's a chore. Also, I would never ask for anything that exists for the sole purpose of being practical. Convenience maybe, but practicality, no. Like a tire gauge, or an umbrella, or an oven mitt — those are all practical. Now, a private jet? That's convenient. But then again, a jet would raise questions related to the global carbon emissions crisis, and anything that contributes to crisis on an international scale is most definitely not convenient, nor a good idea for a Christmas present.
I also wouldn't ask for anything I'd have to make payments on or that could put me into debt, such as a car or a house, or even admission to Harvard. Especially not that last one, because I don't want a gift that requires work, either — mental, manual or otherwise. (See “eats or excretes” comment above.)
Anything in excess is probably also off the table, like a year's supply of stamps, fresh-cut flowers, Campbell's soup, lipstick, or printer ink. Who needs stamps now that there's e-mail; I have allergies; my pantry isn't big enough to hold a year's worth of soup cans; lipstick melts; and I don't want to feel the guilt over having access to all the printer ink I can get my hands on while others struggle to find their HP 60 black in stock anywhere in town. Plus, excess is excessive, and that just makes it less special.
Other things I definitely wouldn't ask for include anything from Bath & Body Works, jewelry with hearts on it, hand-knit clothing with reindeer, or any object that people could have just as easily picked up at work or found in the trunk of their car. For example, one Christmas, a girlfriend of mine received a wrapped-up box of Kleenex from her grandmother. While I'm sure that news would have made the Kleenex execs squeal with delight, my friend was understandably less than thrilled. (Don't tell her, but this year I'm getting her Brawny paper towels.)
There are gifts of gadgetry, frivolity, hilarity, simplicity, humanity ... How could anyone choose just one thing? All right, let's see — we're trying to think of something that's convenient, yet not purely practical, that I won't have to make payments on, won't require work, and that I'll be able to use and appreciate for longer than a day. Wow, turns out Snuggies really are the perfect present.
David Breitman
Every year, as I prepare to pay a Norwegian day laborer to decorate the Christmas tree I "borrowed" from the local elementary school, I make a list of gifts I hope the people I pretend to love will buy for me.
It's mostly plasma televisions, trips around the world, shares of Lehman Brothers stock, and other practical presents that will validate my life through material possessions. I'm not the shallowest person at my tanning salon, but I appreciate the finer things in life.
This year, however, as I sat down (in early October) to make my Christmas wish list, I struggled to come up with options. I already have three different deep fryers, my "cheese of the month" club membership is valid through 2012, and I'm in possession of every Matt Leinart rookie card Upper Deck has ever produced. I hate to sound arrogant, but my life is pretty complete.
I contemplated whether this might be the time in a man's life when Christmas becomes about more than material goods. Perhaps the holidays are about looking into your heart and finding out what you truly need.
So, after spending upwards of 17 minutes soul-searching, I discovered what I want for the holiday season.
An entire day to myself.
One uninterrupted day in which I can enjoy the sound of silence and spend some quality time with my favorite person. Me.
It doesn't seem like too much to ask. Honestly, it's the one thing I never knew I always wanted (Note: I may have stolen that line from a Julia Roberts movie). Seriously, I haven't had 24 relaxing hours since I had to serve an in-school suspension for gambling on the lifespan of our class gerbil in the sixth grade. Every day I show up at work where I'm greeted by hundreds of poorly constructed and somewhat intrusive e-mails. I spend my evenings socializing with friends I'm not particularly fond of and am forced to endure countless wedding receptions and dinner parties on my once-valued weekends (Note: Prefacing it with the word “fabulous” doesn't make your murder mystery soirée any less painful).
So, rather than request a slew of expensive gifts, I will simply ask that the people in my life honor my Christmas wishes and give me the gift that keeps on giving: the gift of privacy. It's not very expensive, and FedEx won't charge $17.99 to deliver it before December 23.
For one entire day, I am asking my friends, family, loved ones, Chinese food delivery guy, and homeless person who sleeps in my laundry room to leave me alone. No phone calls, smoke signals, carrier pigeons, or uninvited caroling.
Yes, world peace would be a nice gift if anybody has some of that handy. But if not, peace and quiet will do just fine.