The Christmas List

Christmas creeps closer. My angst rises. The stalking horror of ‘what to get’ knocks. I mistake panic for inspiration.

I remember the old days of mall-wandering on Christmas Eve, bereft of ideas, toting an empty shopping bag. Like zombies, clueless men in rumpled suits with hopeless stares roam the corridors. Multitudes of angels play golden harps. Christmas cheer echoes down the decked halls.

Store clerks prey on the vulnerability of such shoppers. They’ll buy anything, at any price. The trick is to lure them into the store. They achieve this seduction with chocolate cookies and box wine. Men are easy pickings for such cheap tricks.

But not me, not this year. I’m getting ahead of the curve. No more last-minute terror. Get organized, shop early, get bargains. I’m on it.

But just like last year, here I sit, searching for ideas. Nothing. Catalogues and coupons confound me. So much, who can choose? A blank list exposes my ambivalence. It mocks my vacuous mind. The deadline is a time bomb strapped to my body…tick, tick, tick. Terror torments me.

Christmas is supposed to be joyful. Joy to the world, holly jolly and mistletoe, right? Not a season of self-mutilation. Music of red-nosed reindeers and choruses of winter wonderlands gush forth. It confuses us. How can anyone get worked up about winter in 75 degree weather? The ruse isn’t working.

Commerce assaults us. Buy Now. Save. Hurry. Last Chance. It’s all too much. My ideas are asleep in stasis. What to purchase? The tyranny of the urgent attacks me. Intensity builds...the pressure, the pressure.

I leave the table, walk in circles. Nothing resonates. Suddenly, out of the blue, an epiphany of enormous magnitude hits…registers 10 on my Richter. Check the Bible for leads, you dummy. Now ideas don’t talk, but they sometimes drop subtle clues to see if you can pick up on them. I waste no time consulting my Bible for a sign.

I’m not sure the Bible has all the answers. It raises more questions than it answers. For example, it’s yet to reveal a loophole in the law that will pardon past iniquities. But at this point, I’m desperate for ideas. What can I lose? Tick, tick, tick.

I scroll through the pages, searching for a tip. I’m about to give up when I discover the story of some ‘wise men’ following a star in a desert, looking for a Baby. Is this believable? Star gazing maybe, but following a star? And these were wise men. Really? Incredible. No woman would ever believe such nonsense. They know a wise man has yet to be found on the planet.

But the wise men are bearing gifts, which is exactly what I’m looking for. Nothing complicated…gold, frankincense and myrrh. These gentlemen were obviously Semitic. Who else has all the gold? What an idea…gold. My mind does some quick math. If these were gifts fit for a King, then surely for a queen. And one lives in my house.

I read on. More clues emerge. I conclude that the wise men may be of the nomadic tribe of Neiman, which later merged with Marcus after the locust plague and opened a department store in Dallas. Their icon remains strikingly similar to The Star. Speculation, of course, but stranger things have happened, like immaculate conceptions. Which is certainly an unusual gift anytime.

So I solve two problems…gift ideas, and where to find them. I check out all things gold. Sure, the prices are high. But I ignore that, plunge headlong into debt. Fiscal cliff? Who cares. Worry about that later. It’s Christmas.

I recall Christmases past. I always seemed to be tight for cash, which is code for being destitute. But I had Visa in my hand. Later it had my throat in its grip. Insolvent shoppers rarely get respect from clerks. It’s better to avoid their condescending attitudes and deceitful tricks. Shop online and by phone. They’ll never know. Or care!

I return to my list, rip through the catalogues. Ideas flow. After hours of toil I’m exhausted. But now it’s over. Done. List complete. The bomb stops ticking. My wife entices me with a plate of chocolate cookies and a glass of Pinot from a bottle won in a Salvation Army raffle. In the background I hear the voices of radio angels singing sweetly o’er the plain.

I reach for my phone, make the call. Neiman Marcus answers. Soon my cart runneth over. Visa smiles again.

Good luck with your list. But if ideas are slow to come, don’t panic. The Good Book of Ideas has an answer: “Wine makes merry, but money answers all things.” Yes, really! Ecclesiastes 10:19.

Tick, tick, tick…..

Bud Hearn
November 30, 2012