This Holiday, Give the Gift of Suggestion
There are expensive gifts and there are thoughtful gifts, but in my family, the most common gift is the gift of suggestion.
For example, when I was a newly-minted professional of twenty-two, I thought the best course of action was to grow a three inch beard and start playing the banjo. While my parents could not crush the spirit of the hillbilly music welling up within me, they could do something about the beard. That Christmas, I got a titanium-finished electric trimmer with a ceramic blade – the best trimmer money could buy. It was so nice that I overlooked the suggestiveness of this gift and admired it simply for its art deco qualities. I stood it up in a prominent place on the mantle of my first apartment for all to see.
Only years later, when I was looking for a new job, did I flip on the power switch. Quite surprisingly, I learned that form followed function, and it's kept my beard in line ever since. It's also come in quite handy since I discovered on my 25th birthday that my parents did not give me the gift of hair everlasting.
This year, I'll be returning the favor with a few gifts of suggestion of my own. My father will be receiving a CD of new folk music that I have scouted out. This, I tell myself, will be the CD that finally convinces him that good songs have been written since Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog and good harmonies have been sung since the last "lie-la-lie" of The Boxer. What I really should be getting him is the new Simon and Garfunkel box set, which gets repackaged every year with new outtakes, early unreleased recordings, and, this year, the extended lie-la-lie remix.
But gifts of suggestion can go too far. For example, now that I have been married two years, I am hoping not to receive a copy of the book, Making a Baby: Everything You Need to Know to Get Pregnant by Debra Bruce. That I would deem overly suggestive. Whereas if you wanted to buy us a week's vacation in Puerto Rico, that might speed things along. I certainly wouldn't take offense.
In conclusion, I encourage you to give generously, and to sprinkle a few suggestive gifts here and there in the name of loved-one improvement. And where you are concerned your intentions might be too bald-faced, mask them with outrageous expense. That way, when they see through your ploy and get hurt, you can just direct their attention to the gift receipt and say, "I think that new Three Dog Night box set goes on sale December 26."
For example, when I was a newly-minted professional of twenty-two, I thought the best course of action was to grow a three inch beard and start playing the banjo. While my parents could not crush the spirit of the hillbilly music welling up within me, they could do something about the beard. That Christmas, I got a titanium-finished electric trimmer with a ceramic blade – the best trimmer money could buy. It was so nice that I overlooked the suggestiveness of this gift and admired it simply for its art deco qualities. I stood it up in a prominent place on the mantle of my first apartment for all to see.
Only years later, when I was looking for a new job, did I flip on the power switch. Quite surprisingly, I learned that form followed function, and it's kept my beard in line ever since. It's also come in quite handy since I discovered on my 25th birthday that my parents did not give me the gift of hair everlasting.
This year, I'll be returning the favor with a few gifts of suggestion of my own. My father will be receiving a CD of new folk music that I have scouted out. This, I tell myself, will be the CD that finally convinces him that good songs have been written since Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog and good harmonies have been sung since the last "lie-la-lie" of The Boxer. What I really should be getting him is the new Simon and Garfunkel box set, which gets repackaged every year with new outtakes, early unreleased recordings, and, this year, the extended lie-la-lie remix.
But gifts of suggestion can go too far. For example, now that I have been married two years, I am hoping not to receive a copy of the book, Making a Baby: Everything You Need to Know to Get Pregnant by Debra Bruce. That I would deem overly suggestive. Whereas if you wanted to buy us a week's vacation in Puerto Rico, that might speed things along. I certainly wouldn't take offense.
In conclusion, I encourage you to give generously, and to sprinkle a few suggestive gifts here and there in the name of loved-one improvement. And where you are concerned your intentions might be too bald-faced, mask them with outrageous expense. That way, when they see through your ploy and get hurt, you can just direct their attention to the gift receipt and say, "I think that new Three Dog Night box set goes on sale December 26."
posted by Porterman at 6:33 AM
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