All the Gifts

Once upon a time, a long long time ago, Herself observed the holiday gathering of a very traditional, upper-middle-class New England family.  The family members sat around the Christmas tree which had been artfully decorated with white lights and golden globes tied with golden ribbon - ornately simple.  The sparse coloring of the tree contrasted with the myriad hues of reds and blues in the oriental carpet of the room. The presents had all been opened and dutifully admired, one at a time by each individual.  The matriarch looked around the room at the carefully coiffed and attired family with their pyramidal stacks of gifts and exclaimed, in reference to the abundance:  "It's practically obscene!"

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Obscene.  
ob·scene [uhb-seen]  adjective
1. offensive to morality or decency; indecent; depraved: obscene language.
2. causing uncontrolled sexual desire.
3. abominable; disgusting; repulsive.

What did the matriarch mean, exactly?  Was the largesse seen by the matriarch (who, most likely, was the primary if not sole purveyor of that year's gifts) as being excessive to the point of being offensive, indecent, disgusting?  It was such a peculiar choice of words.  Herself, who has always attempted to find the very best word for each occasion (which periodically yields halting conversation, much to Herself's horror), did not understand.  It did not appear to be an exclamation of "aren't we fortunate" or "such a nice Christmas" -- rather, it seemed more to be a chastisement, a reminder that money had been spent and the family members ought to take note and be appropriately grateful.  And as if commanded, the family members did indeed murmur additional appropriate words of gratitude for their bestowed bounty.  "Thank you again, so much."

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Man years later, Herself remembers that strange scene. And she aims for the opposite.

She does her best, as the family's Santa, to find what it is that her loved ones will enjoy.  She treasures the colored lights and the miscellaneous hand-made and crowded ornaments of her nuclear family's tree.  She is quietly pleased by the assorted and occasionally mismatched wrapping papers of the small piles of presents at its base.  The family members open their gifts as they see fit, holding things up delightedly or admiring them shyly.  Herself does not require any particular demonstrations of awareness of the value of a gift, nor does she need any particular acts of thanks.  She hopes that they enjoy the moment without feeling ashamed or guilty for having received presents.  She hopes, most of all, that regardless of the number or content of the boxes under the tree, her loved ones know that they are loved, unconditionally.