Here it is in a nutshell: it’s the thought that counts because
it’s the thought itself that is actually the gift. The material
expression of that thought is what you wrap up in brightly
colored paper and shiny ribbons. But if the gift inside does
not clearly reveal The Thought, it may be splashy or clever or
impressive – but it will never be truly great. What, then,
in our quest to give great gift, is The Thought We Should Be
Thinking?
Actually, it’s so simple, I’m almost embarrassed to say it.
But The Thought We Should Be Thinking is: what do I want? Sound
crazy? After all, if what we want is a fur coat/car/ticket to
the Super Bowl/vacation cruise/puppy, and the giftee happens
to live in the Bahamas, doesn’t have a driver’s license, hates
football, gets seasick, and is allergic to dogs, wouldn’t giving
them what we want be . . . well, thoughtless? Indeed. But –
the question is not: what material expression do I want? Since
the thought itself is the gift, the only real question is: what
thought do I want?
And the thought we want from others – most of us, anyway – is to
be thought of as special. We’d like to know that they listen to
what we say and that they care about what we want. What greater
gift can there be? But – how can we give it? Why, by listening
to what people say, and by caring about what they want. And if
the gift lets them know this, it will be a Great Gift.
“White lilacs,” your wife said once, wistfully. “My father gave
me the most enormous bouquet of white lilacs for my sixteenth
birthday.” And you listened. And you cared. And an enormous
bouquet of white lilacs was the Great Gift that you gave her on
. . . well, her next birthday. With a card that said, “You’ll
always be my Sweet Sixteen.”
While your husband was watching a baseball game on TV one
Sunday afternoon, he commented, “Dad always promised to take me
to Cooperstown, to the Baseball Hall of Fame.” And he almost
managed to sound nonchalant when he added “But we never got
there.” And you listened. And you cared. And you enjoyed the
Great Gift together by making arrangements to celebrate your
next anniversary in Cooperstown.
Now, while this concept may have spectacular results when
applied to our nearest and dearest, don’t overlook its potential
even in the office-Christmas-party ten-dollar-limit category.
Let’s say you have to get a gift for Ms. Edwards in Accounting,
and the first thought that springs to mind is a pair of Isotoner
gloves. But then you say: hey. Ms. Edwards is a pretty cool
old lady. Why not give her a Great Gift? Well, if you think
she’s a pretty cool old lady, that means you’ve probably
listened to her once or twice. What are some of the things
she said? How did she look when she said them? Think, now.
Yes! That day in the lunchroom. She was talking about her days
in junior college when – aha! That’s it! When she wrote some
sonnets for an English term paper! And how did she look when
she said that? Why, Ms. Edwards actually blushed! So you give
her a nice little book of sonnets. Maybe with a note inside.
“Poems for a Poet,” perhaps. And she blushes again. Feels
good, doesn’t it?
And you can keep on feeling good, because there’s a virtually
unlimited wealth of Great Gift material out there. If you’re
willing to listen. To your parents and siblings, your spouse,
your friends, that nice guy down at the supermarket. You do
listen to them, don’t you? And you do care about what they
want? Well, then. The rest should be easy.
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