The best gifts don’t come in a box
Two days before Halloween, a young woman and her mom standing in front of me at Hobby Lobby were chatting about their mega-Christmas decoration order as pastel-colored items moved down the counter.
I commented that I’d noticed at Home Goods, Christmas was pink this year. Like me, not everyone prefers primary colors like red and green. But a pink-and-white holiday snowscape? Divine.
The daughter replied that, even though it was only Oct. 29, she was ready to take down her Halloween decorations and start her holiday shopping.
“But Halloween hasn’t even happened yet,” I said politely, exasperated.
We all know the holidays seem to start earlier each year. Black Friday once kicked off the season, but now stores push us to get out there before the leaves turn brown.
I just got a mailer for “Early Black Friday” deals from BJ’s. They’re promising over 20 deals from Oct. 31 to Nov. 16 – even before we’ve put away costumes and finished the candy. It made me think: the best presents don’t always come in a box. Sometimes the ones that truly stay with us are gifts of time, creativity, heart and presence.
For me, one of those gifts was living with my maternal grandparents in shore houses during my youth in Brigantine, Atlantic City and Ventnor. I don’t think Grandmom Dora and Grandpop Lester ever gave me a material gift – maybe a doll once. That never occurred to me until now.
My grandparents weren’t wealthy, but they shared something far more lasting: their time.
Summers spent together gave us kids the freedom to just hang out. My grandfather, a whiz at cards and math, taught my brother and me 500 Rummy, Knock Rummy and pinochle. We became fast card sharks, and he never let our age matter.
“You played the ace already!” he would exclaim, as if we were all equals at the table.
He would rise early to wrap our paper-route papers with rubber bands so they’d be ready when we rolled out of bed and onto our bikes. My grandmother would take me to pick flowers – a big event, even if the “bright little bouquets” were just dandelions.
She would make me an an-aila (egg in Yiddish) or lochshon (noodles with butter, cottage cheese, and sour cream – or all three!) and eat any burnt toast herself so it wouldn’t be wasted or upset my mother. These are gifts you never forget.
Locals I spoke with also recalled experiences rather than boxes and bows.
“I have so many memories from Hanukkah as a kid to being an adult on Christmas morning and feeling immense gratitude without even opening my gifts,” said Jan Carafagno of Ventnor. “Watching my family in awe at how they’ve grown, how they choose gifts for each other – charitable donations or simply being together – makes me feel like the most grateful person alive.”
For Ventnor resident Susan Sands, a non-material gift came during the disappointments of COVID-19.
“I was turning 60, and celebration options were limited,” she said. A friend brought a big poster and a cake, presenting it from a distance on her lawn. “That meant so much to me.”
And for Joey Errickson, a plumbing technician from Ocean City, the most memorable childhood gifts were about people and experiences.
“My mom took my brother and me to California when I was 9 to visit my grandmother and my aunt, a very colorful woman – always pushing us to eat her food.”
Instead of material presents, his family took him to LEGOLAND California, a perfect adventure for a boy his age.
“Some of the Lego sculptures – knights, pirates, superheroes – were bigger than me. But the food, my aunt’s antics and the time spent with my one-of-a-kind relatives created memories far more valuable than any expensive gift.”
For my niece’s shower, I asked each guest to choose a word to describe the bride and send photos, then designed a tribute book around those words. Whenever she needs a lift, her husband says, “Read your book!”
At the end of the day it’s not ribbons or paper that make a gift memorable, it’s the time spent, the care shown and the love shared.
Whether it’s a summer at the shore, a hand-picked flower/weed, a poster and cake on the lawn, or a trip to LEGOLAND, these are the presents that linger in memory – and in the heart – long after the season has passed.
Lisa is an advertising copywriter (think ‘Madmen’ without the men), journalist and columnist. Claim to fame: Lou’s waitress for four teenage summers. For column comments, story ideas, or to get on her “quote” list for future columns: redshoeslzs@gmail.com
