NO GIFTS, PLEASE!

NO GIFTS, PLEASE!     Originally published October 2011

Okay with my birthday coming up this week, let me say, I am not totally there—to the “no gifts, please “stage.

But I do have very definite ideas about gifts for me these days. I finally "get" why someone, however well intentioned, who does not know one really well is trying to do the impossible:  anticipate what I might like.

You would have to know me well to know, for example, that even though I collected clowns for years—decades actually—I no longer add to my clown collection: I have found the meaning of the word “enough”.

I love many of the clowns that I chose and that were chosen for me by those who know me well. I do not have the same preference for those clowns in my collection that were chosen by the less-well-initiated, to whom it appears that all clowns are created equal-- that is simply not true.

I thought I was going to discuss gifts but I will get back to that later, right now I want to tell you about my some members of my collection of clowns.

Right now on my bulletin board is a two dimensional—well flat but three dimensional in places—fella with a yarn mouth upturned in a smile and straw hands and hair. Kate made him years ago. He is one of my treasures.

“Charlie” whistles and plays “Sweet Georgia Brown”. He is about 14’’ tall—and the young Huntes and my Beloved gave him to me for my birthday one year—or was it Mother’s Day? Charlie is a treasure.

I could not limit myself to one, but certainly Charlie is in the top 5.  There is a baseball player at bat already wound up to swing that Pat, my best friend of 35 years gave me for my birthday. He stands next to Charlie in a place of honor.

Then there are the non-identical twins. They were bought from my favorite frame shop at that time. (Does everyone have a favorite frame shop?)

I would go to the gallery-frame shop and do my pre- Christmas shopping (for my own gifts).   I would pick out what I wanted.  

When I “sent” Beloved in to shop for me, the gallery owner, also a friend would point out items that I "might" like.  Okay, so I did not have any reservations about manipulating and controlling the “gifts” I was “given”, all right?

Well, on that Christmas morning, I opened my gift from that frame shop.  I know what’s inside (since I already chose it) and I am eager to see the lovely thing…and… the clown inside ...is not what I ordered!

Instead of the ink on canvass jewel tones sophisticated clown painting that had the flair and fragrance of New Orleans and the theater…here was a, how shall I describe him?

Well, he was three-dimensional. He had cotton balls for ears; chartreuse rocks for eyes with black dots for pupils (anatomically correct) a kidney bean nose and a yarn mouth—rather wide.

His arms were striped ribbons; he had pinwheel spaghetti for hands and several large yarn strands made up each of his huge clown feet. Just to be sure one did not mistake his identity, his name-- Clown”-- was printed in black marker below his long orange feet.  He was laid out on an orange background with a yellow bow frame around it.

I was bewildered…but like my Daddy before me... I was going to be gracious even if I did not quite understand.  (Remind me to tell you about Christmas morning and the Kellogg’s Corn Flakes box.)

 I was thanked Sweetheart and told him how charming "Clown" was—at least that is how I remember it.   Maybe Beloved and the young ones would say I was shocked and disappointed and not so gracious about “Clown".

I know for sure Beloved was smiling when I opened another framed gift wrapped in brown paper. This one contained the New Orleans clown--the one I had pre-selected.

Beloved said having me open "Clown" when I was expecting to open "New Orleans" had been a joke between the shop keeper and him.  He had only borrowed "Clown" and he said he would take "Clown" back to the shop.   

I renamed "Clown" Cotton Ears. I loved Cotton Ears--I could not part with him.