Stories
A Gift of Memories
I remember early married years when I had a kitchen with exactly four cabinets and about three square feet of counter space. Fortunately, this was the pre-microwave era so I didn’t have to give up my precious space for it. But my mother-in-law in all her generosity decided that my life wasn’t complete without an electric frying pan (a precursor to the microwave) and a free-standing electric mixer (which she bought used from a neighbor). I actually did want these appliances, but when I arrived home from our Christmas celebration with them I realized the obvious. There was no place to put them.
I juggled and moved things around thinking that the laws of physics could be manipulated. It didn’t work. I finally decided to store these new possessions in the bedroom because my closet was considerably larger than my kitchen if that gives you a clue to my predicament.
In time I did what people do the week after Christmas. I decided to purchase a storage cabinet to place on the open wall in my kitchen. I pored over the Sears catalog trying to find something that would serve the necessary purpose (no Amazon in those days). I finally found one I could afford. It had a sturdy metal top with heavy duty cardboard sides and sliding doors. It would be perfect because it effectively doubled my storage as well as counter space.
I called in my order and waited for notification of its delivery some days later. Instant gratification wasn’t the order of the day. Even living in a big city (which I did) meant that items ordered from the catalog took ten days to two weeks to be shipped to the store. A phone call or post card would notify you of its arrival and then you had to go pick it up. The store closed at five, so even though I learned on Thursday that my cabinet was waiting for me, I had to wait till Saturday to go get it.
Unfortunately, though, a huge snowfall descended upon the city Friday night. I was new to winter driving and faced a major predicament. The catalog store was only a few blocks away and I desperately wanted to pick up my package, but I had never driven on snow in my life. And this was lots of snow. I agonized over the wisest decision but need for gratification took over caution. I left early to reduce the traffic I would face and managed the trip uneventfully. The parking lot was empty since only I was desperate enough to venture out in the early hours.
I retrieved my purchase and decided that the parking lot offered an opportunity too good to resist. I spent the next hour driving in snow. Pristine, unplowed snow. I drove from one end of the lot to the other braking suddenly, braking slowly, not braking at all learning the feel of my tiny yellow Opel Cadette as it maneuvered this unfamiliar white stuff. When I felt I knew enough to be marginally less of a hazard on the road, I went back to my apartment to give my Christmas gifts their new home.
I no longer have that cabinet or even the electric skillet although they both served me for years. I do still have the mixer although it has moved to the attic. I can’t quite bring myself to discard it and I think it has reached the age to be a collectible. Whenever I come across it while looking for something else, I remember that Christmas and the gifts that wouldn’t fit. I remember problem solving to find a place to put them. I remember learning to drive on snow. I remember hauling in the huge box that was the unassembled cabinet and sitting on the floor assembling the pieces. I remember removing my new (and used) appliances from my bedroom closet to give them a rightful place in the kitchen.
It’s funny, but at the time if you had told me that what I was getting that Christmas were memories I would have thought you slightly “tetched in the head” as they once said. Gifts are supposed to be objects – physical things that serve some purpose – not of the mind. But I would have been wrong, for what has lasted has been the experiences and the memories left behind. The next time I buy presents for Christmas I want to remember that. I also need to remember that I may never know how important a gift may be, for my mother-in-law never knew that long years after she wrapped my gifts that they are still giving.