My parents seldom celebrated special events or holidays, and they hadn’t exchanged gifts in years. Dad had long since given up buying anything for Mom, who was as difficult to please as he was easy. But Mom and Dad received copious gifts after moving to Portland to be near us in their so-called golden years because my wife is an ardent gift giver.
It became a challenge to find gifts he wanted or could use. Eventually, we ran out of ideas. The year we bought Dad pajamas he was in desperate need of new ones. His current PJs had been reduced to threads and Mom didn’t shop much anymore. It’s a well-known fact that men don’t buy pajamas for themselves, especially eighty year old guys.
So my wife and I went to Macy’s and bought him a new pair. On Christmas morning his face lit up when he opened the package, careful not to rip the paper or damage the bows. “Just what I wanted,” he’d exclaimed, as if receiving a vintage ’68 Mustang GT 390 Fastback.
Weeks passed and I finally got around to asking Dad if he was enjoying his new pajamas.
“I sure am,” he said. “They’re wonderful.”
But one evening I dropped by their apartment unexpectedly (it was only 6:45 and not even dark outside) and caught Dad in his old PJs. “Why aren’t you wearing your new pajamas?” I asked.
He hemmed and hawed for a moment before admitting, “I’m saving the new ones for a special occasion.”
I couldn’t hold back my laughter. Exactly what sort of special pajama-related occasion was my eighty year old father waiting for? Did my shy dad have a secret fantasy? Was he expecting a call from Hugh Hefner inviting him to the Playboy Mansion?
Dad never wore the pajamas we bought for him. Mom says he took them out of his drawer and looked at them occasionally, but he always claimed they were too good for everyday use.
Now, when I think of Dad I imagine him wearing them in heaven. No longer shy, he’s looking sharp in a playboy mansion in the sky.
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It's difficult, getting old and not needing anything. The talcums and creams pile up ion the bathroom counter; the necklaces curl snakelike at the bottom of the dresser drawer. Christmas makes one's jaw ache from stiff smiles as one tries to open yet another box of chocolates with cherries in them. This year asked my 99 year-old mother what she would like for Christmas. "Tell me the truth, Mom," i insisted when she hesitated. "If you really want to know," she answered, the words came slowly and I feared that she might ask for the one thing I couldn't give her. "What I would like right now is a cigarette."
Well, I couldn't give her a cigarette either, but we both managed a grin and she added, "I don't need a thing, Joie, except you."
Love this!
That was a delightful story and so typical!
More of this writer!
Very good story. My dad was always hard to shop for too.
awww. bless him. just like my mother - she would use virtual rags for towels for herself, then haul out the new ones only for the guests' use. *sigh*
This is so funny and so touching... and so beautifull told!
Great story!
Maybe it's a generational thing. My dad refused to let my mom buy him new black socks (from Walmart, not even Macy's) because he said the price was outrageous.
What a great story! Enjoyed it very much and it reminded me of my father-in-law who always looked spiffy, even in his robe and pajamas. Nicely written.
What a great article! And SO relatable. Just this week my mother answered my "what do you want for Christmas" with a sing-songy "The only thing I want for Christmas is just to keep the things that I've got!".