People are often given gifts. I am often given gifts. Especially as a teacher, I frequently find myself the recipient of a gift of one kind or another. Just this semester, I’ve been given some interesting candy from Iran and some yummy ripe avocados from someone’s garden. And both of these surprised me because I took over this class in the third week of the semester after another teacher quit having accepted a full time job elsewhere. I was delighted because my own class had been canceled and I was facing unemployment and a very tight budget, but I had been a bit worried that the class would not warm to me. Nobody likes changes. The gifts made me feel as if I’d passed some unwritten exam students always give teachers, especially a teacher who replaces another.
Sometimes, the gifts we are given are a bit off in one sense or another. Last semester, for instance, I was given a great blouse. It was black and white with a nice pattern. I don’t remember if it was for my birthday or just because. The problem was it was really, really big. I felt bad that I never wore it and just hope my student, an older woman, didn’t notice. She would have felt worse, I think, if I had tried to explain that it didn’t fit especially as the language barrier might have meant that I couldn’t really explain the situation very well.
That same semester, another woman also gave me a blouse. It was from her country – a cute sleeveless summer number, white with blue embroidery. Sadly, though, this gift was in memory of her sister who had just passed away. Unfortunately, that blouse was way too small. Recently, I gave the big one to the Goodwill in a bag with other things that didn’t fit, but I kept this one. Maybe someday it will fit me.
I hung it in my closet next to a couple of other gifts – both dresses and both given to me some years ago. One is a blue and white yukata, the informal dress of Japan. The other is a bright pink kimono, the formal traditional dress for women.
They remind me of my first visit to Japan. It was during the 1980s and though I knew the Japanese were very “westernized,” I had expected to see kimonos on the street. I’d at least thought that the older women, maybe the grandmothers, would still wear traditional outfits, but I didn’t see one. Everyone was dressed in western clothes from the bustling sophisticated capital of Tokyo to the little mountain towns in northern Honshu. No one wore a kimono.
I was given many gifts during that trip to Japan and I was happy to regift several of them. It’s not something I like to do, and it wasn’t done very often back then, but how many pairs of chopsticks can one use?
I love to receive gifts, but I confess that I don’t really like to give them unless I’m sure what the person wants or needs or, at least, would be pleased with. I often give my students silly, little gifts and they always act pleased, but I wouldn’t try to give them a real gift – like for a birthday. Besides the fact that I couldn’t afford to give every student a birthday gift, I’d be afraid that it wouldn’t fit or it wouldn’t work or it wouldn’t be used for one reason or another.
Case in point. One of my students a year or so ago, gave me a very colorful serving dish set. There was a good sized bowl with a lid to keep tortillas warm and a couple of smaller bowls for salsa or guacamole. I really liked the bright warm colors and, as I’m married to a Mexican, I do often have tortillas on the table. And this set was cute. The handle of the lid was an upright jalapeno pepper, but I had been going through a season of downsizing – trying to just get rid of things I didn’t need or absolutely love. So, I just didn’t want it. How does one say that? Well, of course, you don’t. You just add it to a shelf already brimming with knick knacks and bric-a-brac. In this case, I compromised. I kept the two little bowls and donated the tortilla warmer. I’m sure someone saw it and loved it. The truth, though, is that I haven’t the smaller bowls either.
Once in a while, though, a gift is perfect.
A few years ago, I began reading The Winds of War. It’s a fictionalized account of the events leading up to WWII. I’d always had a passing interest in the great war, and I had read several accounts of the Holocaust and some about Pearl Harbor, but this book really opened up that interest and I’ve read several books since and become something of a history buff.
Anyway, when I started with this work of Herman Wouk I knew that there was a second volume called War and Remembrance. And I started it sometime after reading the first book not realizing that this book I was reading was actually the second volume of a two book set – a compliment to the author. His characters were so well developed that I jumped right in to the story which took place several years later with barely a hiccup.
I don’t remember how nor when I realized that I was reading Volume II and that there was a Volume I, but when I discovered it, I was really disappointed. Here I was essentially reading the third part of a trilogy without having read the middle. And I shared my disappointment with a fellow teacher as we talked over lunch one day.
Meanwhile, I tried to find the “missing” volume which turned out to be quite a chore. Everyone that was selling a copy was, of course, selling it along with the companion book. Duh? I tried on-line, Amazon and ebay, I dug thru stacks of musty books on many a used book store’s shelves, and I spent several Saturdays combing through garage sale finds. Eventually, I put it out of my mind.
It was easy enough to find the book to read - thanks to the public library, but I wanted a copy for my personal library. I don’t keep very many books really, and I had been culling what I had but I was sure I wanted this set, especially now that I knew it was a set. Thus, I was thrilled when my friend, Dr. C, quite casually gave me a copy that she’d found in a thrift store. It even had a matching dust jacket. I was tickled. It wasn’t my birthday. It wasn’t expected. It wasn’t even anticipated, but it was perfect. Knowing how to give that kind of gift is a gift. Thank you!