By Mary Jo Gill
Buffalo, NY – When I was little, my mom went away for a few days every year or so. She always warned us in advance that she would be taking a little trip. Business. We were not to worry. She would come back. And she would bring us something. Her destination: Buffalo Mercy Hospital. A day or two of labor, literally, and she'd return.
From my recollection, though, the real prize was never my new sister or brother. That arrival was a given. No, my sisters and I were always hoping for a keepsake of our own, some equivalent of "My Mom Had a Baby at the Hotel Mercy and I got was..." Well, you fill in the blank. Evidently, a newborn child was not enough. That would be Mom's new toy.
My mother never seemed phased by our childhood wish list. Instead, she figured out a way to make each of her babies happy. Without ever visiting the gift shop Mom found genuine souvenirs. Besides her infant, she brought home mini-jams and jellies from her feeding tray. Forget whether we would welcome a new boy or girl. Bigger questions loomed. Would Mom deliver strawberry preserves or marmalade?
My sisters and I never really liked seeing Mom go out for any length of time - much to her chagrin, I'm sure. But she never left without making that same promise: don't worry, I'll bring you something. I can remember those rare nights at home, when Mom and Dad were out at a family wedding. And I can remember many subsequent mornings, sneaking out of bed to find boxes of cake reserved for each of her girls. White pound cake coated in a sugary film. Dessert never tasted so good.
My mom must have learned this art from her mom, as I think about it. Gram always wanted to surprise her visitors, whether it was with orange Jell-o, Brach's candy, or a thimble-full of Mogen David wine. Even in her final days in an assisted living center, she scavenged for treasures to add to her coffers. As a resident with an "all-you-can-eat" dining pass, Gram could never let good food go to waste. How excited she would be to stumble across fresh fruit and slip away at least one prize per day. Talk about striving for five! I would visit only to find bananas hidden in the seat of Grandma's walker or ripening behind her box of curlers. Christmas had come early once again.
As I take down the tree and tuck away the tinsel for another year, I can't help but think about those childhood treats. They were never very expensive, nor were they ever found circled in the Sears Catalog. They certainly weren't the X-Box 360, a Holiday Barbie, or a Cabbage Patch Kid. They weren't gold ... or frankincense, not even myrhh.
But somehow they still rank high on the list of my "best gifts ever."
Maybe it's because those gifts showed me what the best gifts always do. In those things we discover that we are not forgotten. We see how closely we're connected how often we're thought about how special we are. Perhaps those are the real Gifts of the Magi.
[It's true: very few of us grown-ups need gifts anymore. We can just go buy all that stuff ourselves - at least that's what we tell our families. But I have a feeling - we just might need what all those things represent, don't you?]
Strawberry jelly, wedding cake, and ripened bananas: they worked for me. Never any doubt that I was loved.
Listener-commentator Mary Jo Gill teaches at Lancaster Middle School.
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