The Bison-tenial year of 1976 was out first holiday season; Cheryl and I have been spending Christmas together ever since. Close to 40 years now, and it’s getting a bit taxing, trying to come up with a present or two which might break thru the fog of memory.
In 1995, she totally surprised me with a carbon fiber mountain bike I’d been ogling at the local bike shop. She hid it with friends, who brought it over Christmas eve. That gift literally changed my life. I spent more and more time out in the woods, huffing and puffing up trails, careening down them, getting scars all over my calves, and ending up on more bike adventures than I can remember. That’s why I write them down.
The next year, I had to reciprocate. She’d been a very serious amateur photographer all her life, but was still trying to live her dream with a 30 year old SLR. My brother-in-law owns a camera and telescope store (both rely on lenses, to explain the blend), and I turned to him for advice and a deal on the best Nikon he had in stock. She was equally bowled over as I was the year before.
It almost made up for disastrous Christmas presents. In the 80s and 90s, I was a very busy boy, first as a full time practicing Obstetrician, and later as the head of our large 1000 person medical group. Not much time for thinking about gifts, much less shopping for them.
This year, a week before the big day, when I told Cheryl (as I usually do) that she would “love” what I was getting for her, she reminded me of what she felt was the all time worst gifts I ever gave her.
I’d taken Cody out to a suburban mall on the one Saturday I had free to shop. I gobbled up a bunch of stuff for the kids, and still was flummoxed about what to give my wife. In a novelty store, I saw what my fatigued mind thought was the perfect gift. An herb garden! And only $7 or so! All she had to do was empty the tiny packet of planting soil into the plastic jar, water, drop in the even smaller packet of herb seeds, and wait. Soon, she’d be garnishing her salads with flavoring from her own indoor garden. I still think it was a great gift, and really don’t understand why she holds that up as the archetype of all that is wrong with my understanding of her.
And then there was the year I found, in a sports memorabilia store, an autographed picture of the Sonics’ power forward, hanging from the rim after a particularly thunderous slam dunk. For some reason, I thought she would be over-joyed with this.
This year, I had a lot more time, the power of the computer and Amazon.com, and the cumulative knowledge of 4 decades of close contact. First, I replaced the headphones which she uses in the gym, lifting weights and running on the treadmill. I knew exactly what to get, as hers were broken, and she was always borrowing mine. I had even tested them when they arrived, discovered the right earpiece had diminished sound, and got a return and replacement far in advance of the big day.
Next, I happened to look at my junk mail one morning, and saw Territory Ahead – where I buy most of my shirts and pants these days – was having a sale. I thought I’d check out the women’s section, to see if anything stood out. I looked through the 80 items displayed. Two of them just had “Cheryl” written in a halo above the model. First, a grey and black sweater thing with an oversized turtleneck. Nowadays she’s always going around in fuzzy, fleecy or wooly stuff and bundling up with an extra scarf on her neck. I instantly saw her in this, no doubt. Next, a few lines below, was a black light wool skirt. Again, just the thing I knew she’d wear. I don’t know how I knew, but it looked just like her.
Finally, my trolling through various “Book of the Year” lists found a novel by a Haitian women about a young girl growing up there. Cheryl is spending a lot of time in Haiti, with the midwives and their school. This book was also perfect.
I was shivering with anticipation Christmas morning, and was convinced that I had hit the trifecta.
Skirt and sweater: “It’s a dangerous thing to buy clothes for someone else, but buster, you hit the jackpot. It’s just what I would want to wear!”
Headphones: “Oh! They’re orange this time.” When I pointed out the clip to keep them from bouncing around while running, she beamed.
Haiti novel: “I can’t wait to read this!”
I guess I’ve finally figured her out, after all this time. Maybe the next 40 years will be smooth sailing?