Sans Fig Leaf
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"With a bow"
19 December, 2003
Nothing is quite as fun as a pile of pretty packages, especially under a christmas tree. I can't see such a tree without remembering the countless hours I spent, as a child, sitting beside the tree in my parents' house or one of my grandparents' homes looking at the packages. I loved everything about them. The pretty papers. The ribbons. The way the packages could be stacked and re-stacked to change the color scheme.
I'm a box shaker. My dad taught me, and he learned from his dad before him. There's a fine art to picking up the box, gauging it's density, tilting it first slowly this way and that, feeling how the contents of the box move, hearing the different soft noises it makes. You can assess all sorts of things about it just by that method alone. You don't have to shake it so hard that anything fragile inside is in danger to figure out, more-or-less, what many presents are.
It takes time. More time than you have at most gatherings to spend on the present. The person who just handed it to you wants you to open it now, so they can see the look on your face when you find the present inside. I don't usually have the heart to tell them that I'd love it a whole lot more if they'd just let me play with it for another 20 minutes, first. If I could have it for several days to check several times, I'd have even more fun with it. I understand why people want you to open it right away. I know how cool it is to see someone open a present I picked for them that surprises them in a pleasant way. But I miss that time with all those presents under the tree for days or weeks before the big day.
I make up for it a bit. One reason I like to get all the presents we are giving to folks we will see in-person wrapped early is so they can sit under our tree for a week or so. No, I don't pick up and tilt the presents I have wrapped myself. Just seeing the pretty boxes under the tree each time I walk into the living room gives me a happy, warm feeling inside.
An unopened present can be almost anything. The anticipation of what it might be, the various possibilities you imagine as you hold the box in your hand, is a joy in itself. It sweetens the experience of actually unwrapping it. Sometimes what you find is something you expected. Sometimes it's a surprise. There are those who find many presents disappointing, and I feel sorry for them. That odd sweater or strange knick knack you're holding in your hand was given by someone who hoped to make you happy. The hope itself is worth far more than what the actual present might have been. Yeah, sometimes I get clunkers. Sometimes I give clunkers because I misguessed about someone. But the act of giving is makes the gift valuable, not the money spent.
I'm not very good at wrapping. I love it, but I've never quite had the knack to make the packages look perfect and beautiful. I always need a bit more tape, or have a crumpled corner. But I soldier on. Michael tut-tuts when I say I'm bad at wrapping. He claims I'm much better at it than he is. When he says that, I remember that my mom used to always say she wasn't good at wrapping whenever I asked for her help when I was a kid. Yet her packages always looked gorgeous to me. It's all in the eye of the beholder, I guess.
Another part of the fun for me is the tearing apart of the paper once it is time to open the gift. I'm not one of those folks who carefully undoes each tape bit, going through all sorts of silly contortions so as not to tear or damage the paper at all. Yes, the wrapping is pretty, and I do like to admire the package for it's own sake, but when it's time to open, it's time to open.
I don't mind people who want to carefully remove the paper from their own presents to use later. That's fine--the wrapping is part of the gift--but I get really annoyed at folks who pipe up with, "No! Don't tear the paper! Save it!" when someone else is opening a gift. It's my present, and if I want to tear, shred, crumble, or even eat the wrapping, I will, thankyouverymuch!
It seems everyone has a relative or family acquaintence who is always saving the wrapping paper. At virtually ever gift-giving event I've been to, whether they be Christmas parties, birthdays, wedding showers, or baby showers, someone winds up telling stories about such a relative. Interestingly, the paper saving is almost never viewed as an endearing character trait.
So, bring on the ribbon! Bring out the pretty paper decorated with tinsel! Make the world a little prettier, even if only for a short time. And put the light of anticipation into someone's eyes. You'll be glad you did.
--Ruth Ann Schabaker