"My dad is the sweetest, most paranoid person I know," I wrote on my Facebook wall last night after opening the carefully wrapped gift he had given me for Hanukkah. We had just gone out to dinner at a little old school Italian joint in North Hollywood, a place that is supposedly famous for their meatballs and that, according to my father, my deceased grandfather (George - my namesake) used to deliver meat to back when he ran a butcher shop on Fairfax. The meatballs were indeed wonderful, and while the glass of wine we both ordered left something to be desired, the conversation and garlic bread made up for that.
Presents have never been that big of a deal in my family, and I follow that tradition by regularly forgetting to prepare for any birthdays or holidays that require such. Likewise, I'm always taken aback when someone gifts me with a thoughtful, or even meaningless present. It isn't necessary to me, you see. Good company and a shared drink are all I need to celebrate. Don't get me wrong, I always do my best to show my friends and family I care when those days that necessitate a gift role around, but it takes effort and more than a little stressful, last minute shopping on my part.
When I was a kid, due to monetary limits, we would get a dollar a night for each night of Hanukkah, with usually the last night reserved for a thoughtful trinket. I never had a problem with that. I do remember feeling a bit embarrassed when friends would brag about what they got for Christmas, but looking back I wouldn't change a damn thing. Although my childhood was a bitch at times, I love the person I've become, and I can't pretend that the financial hardships we faced and the lack of greed it projected on me didn't contribute to the awesomeness that is me (I kid, I kid...kinda). It just means that those trinkets we were given meant so much more. I still remember the Fivel plush doll of '86 and the Rocky Horror Picture Show calendar of '93 fondly.
At our family Hanukkah party on Saturday night, my mother presented me with a beautiful mezuzah, resting in a lovely silver box, with a scroll inside that "cost more than the actual mezuzah," according to her. It was a lovely and practical gift, as I've been meaning to get just such a thing to adorn the doorway of my apartment.
Practical gifts are a favorite of mine. For her birthday I gifted Alie, my best friend, with a nice set of kitchen knives and cozy pajamas and slippers - all things she was lacking. For Hanukkah this year I gave my sister a electric blue vintage clutch purse because last time we went shopping, she commented that she wanted one, but wasn't able to find a good one. A magazine subscription is one of my favorite go-to gifts when I'm short on ideas and time.
Anyway, after dinner last night, I headed home with the still-wrapped present that my dad handed me before I dropped him off. I sat on my couch with a curious kitty on either side of me as I peeled back the wrapping paper which I could picture him carefully using to dress the gift he was giving to his youngest daughter (me) - a girl who was so happy to have such a wonderful father, a father who never hung up the phone without telling her how proud he was of her and whose lived his life by the motto that if his grown children still wanted to spend time with him (we do), that meant he was successful, despite any struggles with money and lackluster career.
I laughed out loud when I saw what he had given me, and immediately texted him "thank you, I love it!".
It's a disposable fire extinguisher. It's just what I wanted.
My dad and my brother - Israel, 1977
6 comments:
That's an awesome gift!
My big sis had a mezuzah in her place in the Bronx. Tiny thing, with 20-odd coats of paint on top -- you couldn't tell what it was, and why would a door hinge be cockeyed like that? We finally figured it out after seeing an exhibit at the city history museum on the UES. After that, it became our go-to good luck charm for the apartment.
I had no idea that they were still being used,. (On reflection -- duh!)
And thinking about it, there's something quite profound in giving a fire extinguisher for a Festival of Light, but dammit if I could figure out what it was...
(I'll stop now.)
The mezuzah at the house I grew up in was amazing. It was brass and shaped like a snail. I'm still pissed that we didn't take it with us when we moved, but apparently you're not supposed to remove them unless you're sure the new occupants aren't Jewish.
Good call on the fire extinguisher/Festival of Light comparison. Didn't even think of that! Ha!
Haha, that's a nice gift. A few years ago my dad give me spray-on adhesive. I guess I never realized how much adhesive a growing son needs.
It's the Festival of "light" NOT the fire burning down the house festival, that's the connection:)
Hahaha! That's actually a great idea... I might go get one for our apartment. I do cook in the kitchen occasionally, after all... and there have been unwarranted flames more than once.
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