They had never even thought of such a thing as having a penny. Think of having a whole penny for your very own. Think of having a cup and a cake and a stick of candy AND a penny.
The above quote is from Little House on the Prairie. I remember reading that passage to my mother when I was younger, trying to impress upon her exactly the excitement I felt while reading that chapter, feeling the same excitement that Laura and Mary must have.
She looked at me as though I'd lost my mind. She, in her matierialist way, couldn't understand what was so important about having such piddly little presents.
I couldn't quite explain it to her. At the time, I didn't know how to explain the concept of context, or even the joy of receiving simple things. Simple things did not fit into my family's ideals of what Christmas should be about.
I remember a Christmas not long ago, where three gifts specifically come to mind. The DVD special box set of the first Lord of the Rings movie, a graphic's tablet for my computer, and a digital camera. I had asked for the first two specifically, but had never even expressed an interest in photography or having a camera.
My father asked me which of those presents I liked the best. I told him I couldn't decide between the DVD and the graphics tablet. He was genuinely surprised; he thought I'd pick the camera, because it was the most expensive of the three.
It was my turn to be surprised. I couldn't quite imagine why he thought I'd pick the expensive item I hadn't asked for or even expressed an interest in over the cheaper items I'd been wanting for over half a year at that point.
But that was the mentality of my family. The amount of money spent was equal to the amount of love shown. I could never get across to them that I would be perfectly happy with fewer and less expensive gifts if they were things I actually liked or were interested in. I spent years trying to convince them that spending $10 on a book was better for me than spending $20 on a movie. The book lasted longer, was less expensive, and probably would be reread half a million times if I really enjoyed it.
But they piled on the expensive gifts because I was an only child and they wanted to give me the best, whether I liked it or not.
I've finally reached a point in my life where my holiday celebrations are not all about me, and so I get fewer presents. And I also have much more fun. My friends can be counted on to get me things I enjoy, and they know me well enough to know that I'll be even more pleased the less money they spent on it.
This last year has been something of a trial for me. I spent a good deal of it without much money. I had stress leave from work for three months, and then spent a month or two back at my job before they closed down suddenly in September. I've barely bought anything for myself this year, and have had to find a few interesting ways to make money stretch. So getting anything at all was an extra treat, and I think I appreciated what I did get all the more.
I think, too, that if any of my friends ever read the Little House books and saw the passage I quoted above, they would know that I'd likely get the biggest kick out of opening a present to see a tin cup, a single stick of candy, a little delicious cake, and a penny. All for myself.
Expense pales in comparison to meaning.
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