When I first got married, I was thrust into the job of fathering a young stepson, Wesley. One of the things that always seemed strange to me, then and now, is the reality of “play dates” for kids, wherein parents schedule times for kids to play. I feel bad for kids now, they have all of their school activities regimented as well as after school activities (parents are obsessed with extracurricular activities as a way to make children stand out in a crowd of applicants for college) and then the poor kiddos even have their free time planned for them! They will never know the joy of walking into the woods with no agenda just to see what might happen, and find themselves in a creek catching trout, or making a tree fort, or doing anything without adult supervision. Those times where adults were absent were key moments for understanding social dynamics—how to make a smart decision, how to deal with a bully, what to do when someone steals your baseball glove, figuring out what friendship means and then forming lifelong friendships. Nope, it seems kids are under the watching eyes of adults until they go to college and then the sudden blast of freedom is almost too much for them—sometimes it is too overwhelming as they transition from 18 years of parental hovering to adulthood. Well, anyway, that’s reality now, I guess.
In recent years, I discovered, that my wife does the same thing for me. She is always convinced that I need new friends, and she then sets up play dates. Actually, they are typically suppers in restaurants where she and her friend are eating, and they both decide that the husbands should become friends too. This almost never works out, as my wife works at the university, and most of the men in the area are not like minded with me—they don’t hunt, they don’t fish. They don’t even have dogs! If they do have a dog it wears sweaters in the winter and the closest thing it does to hunting is digging through the garbage can!
A few Christmases ago, Renee took the play dates to a new level, and that was in the form of these “white elephant gift exchange parties.” Okay, so these are basically Christmas parties, but no one at the university would dare say the word “Christmas” because that might be offensive. It turns out that everyone in my wife’s office hosts one of these.
“When do you host one?” I asked my wife, Renee.
“Well, I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Ever seen that Christmas Story movie?” She asked.
“The BB Gun movie? Yeah, I love that movie!”
“You know how the neighbors are the Bumpuses and they have all those annoying hound dogs?” She held her arms out wide, palms raised.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Honey,” she pointed at a couch full of hunting beagles,” We are the Bumpuses!”
“Nah,” I said, “Not at all. I think those might have been bloodhounds in the movie. We have beagles.”
“Well, anyway, I hold ours at the church, so no one has to endure begging from beagles while they eat cookies and store bought eggnog. I already had my party. You haven’t made any of these office parties, because you have been hunting every time we have one.”
“That makes sense,” I saId.
“Well, everyone else brings their husbands!”
“They probably don’t hunt,” I said, “Poor fellows.”
“There is one white elephant gift party left, and please could you go?”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow, at seven o’clock and it will be dark, and you will be home from the woods.”
“Why is is called white elephant?” I asked.
I will summarize her answer as I understand it. They have a half dozen of these parties, and to save money on gift giving, each couple brings a used item, wrapping it. The first person opens a gift and keeps it. Then the next person does the same and can keep it or trade with the first gift. The third person opens a gift and can keep it or trade with either the first or second person. And so on. At the end, the last person opens the final gift and can keep it or swap with anyone else. Obviously, you want to be in the last person to open your gift, and then you get whatever you want. The order in which gifts are open is determined by drawing numbers out of a hat.
“Alright, I said, “I can make it, I guess.”
I was hunting the next day, not long before dark, when my cellphone started buzzing in my pocket. I ignored it. It buzzed. And again. A fourth time.
“Hello?” I whispered into the phone.
“I wont get to the house before this party, because I have to stay on campus to get a class session started.” Renee was frantic.
“What party?” I whispered.
“Are you kidding me! The white elephant party. We talked about this yesterday.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“The dogs are chasing a rabbit, and I do not want to give away my location to the rabbit. I gotta go, they are getting close.”
“Hey!” Renee yelled, “I need you to go home when you are done, wrap up a nice present that people will like and use, and then meet me at the party. I will text you the address.”
“No problem, your gal pals all have dogs right?”
“Yes. What are you goin—“
“I gotta get ready to shoot.” I hung up.
I cleaned rabbits, went home, fed dogs, and actually got to the party before Renee. I walked in with my gift in a long box that originally held a floor lamp. I couldn’t find wrapping paper, so I just duct taped it shut.
“You must be Bob,” a gal opened the door, “I am Mary.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
“We say Happy Holidays, to be inclusive.”
“Ah,” I said, “No Christians here?”
“Um, actually, I think everyone here is a Christian.” She sipped her eggnog and scratched her head as she took a faith inventory of the room, “Yeah. All Christians.”
“Well then, Happy Holidays,” I held out the box.”
“Just put it over there in the pile,” Mary said, “But we all know it is a lamp!”
I chatted with a guy named Chad about some computer stuff he does and that I do not understand, and then with a nervous guy named Mike, whose wife yelled at him a lot, and then Renee finally showed up.
“You didn’t wrap the present,” she asked me, trying not to move her mouth as she talked.
“I couldn’t find the wrapping paper,” I tried to be a ventriloquist too.
“It was right inside the front door.”
“Ah,” I said, “I used the basement door.”
“The wrapping paper has been there for weeks!”
“Oh yeah?” I said.
When gift time came, My gift was opened early, “We could use a lamp, the husband of the couple said.” They then pulled out a tie out stake. The sort that we use to put hounds on the ground at field trials or after hunts, to drink water and do their business and not wander off to—you know—be hounds.
“What did you do?” Renee glared at me.
“That one is hardly used,” I said, “And it is one of the big ones, almost three feet long, made for big dogs. You know I switched over to the new ones, only eighteen inches, when they started making them. Plenty deep into the ground to hold a beagle.”
“Oh, a mystery!” Mike said as he held it up.
“What is that thing?” His wife screamed and Mike flinched.
“That is a—“ Renee covered my mouth.
“You can’t tell us,” Mary said, “If someone doesn’t know what it is, then the people have to decide if it might be valuable or not. At the end you can tell them what it is,, if they still do not know.”
“How often does it happen that you do not know what it is?” I asked.
“Usually most people know what it is,” Mary said, but I do not recognize this thing. Anyone else?” It turns out that no one knew what a tie out stake is. This was a good one too, with a sideways U at the top that sat on a swivel so that the dog could not wrap the attached chain around the stake and get choked. Picture, if you will, a really long stake shaped like the letter “P” but the vertical line of the “P” is ten times longer—thirty inches to be precise.
“You are in so much trouble,” Renee poked an elbow into my side.
“You are a dog person,” Mike said, “I bet it is a dog leash that is also a walking cane. I think we should keep it.”
“The next person took the stake too, “I bet this thing is for holding down your beach chair so the waves don’t move it!” the woman said as she swapped a wooden bowl for the stake.
“I bet it is a thing for smoothing cement!” Chad traded for it, “And my brother-in-law could use this thing.”
“I think it is for helping you get out of the snow if your car gets stuck, that looks like a snow chain,” another gentleman said, taking it. The ideas just kept coming. We opened up a little coaster that heats your coffee mug. “Coffee doesn’t last long enough to get cold,” Renee said, “We will take the wooden bowl, since it is against the rules to get your own gift back.”
When it was all said and done, we showed them a picture of the tie out stake in action.
“That’s close to what I thought it was!” The recipient of the stake said, “I figured it was a toddler retention system to keep them safe in the yard, it attaches to the belt loop!”
“Oh,” I said, “I would be afraid of a kid running and falling on the steel stake, even though it is rounded. But if you are going to do that, I can get you another one for when you set up play dates.”
“Oh, that is so kind,” the young mother said, “You really made this white elephant gift exchange party quite interesting.”
“Merry Christmas!” I held my eggnog in the air.
“Merry Christmas!” Everyone yelled, sipping their eggnog and eating cookies.
In recent years, I discovered, that my wife does the same thing for me. She is always convinced that I need new friends, and she then sets up play dates. Actually, they are typically suppers in restaurants where she and her friend are eating, and they both decide that the husbands should become friends too. This almost never works out, as my wife works at the university, and most of the men in the area are not like minded with me—they don’t hunt, they don’t fish. They don’t even have dogs! If they do have a dog it wears sweaters in the winter and the closest thing it does to hunting is digging through the garbage can!
A few Christmases ago, Renee took the play dates to a new level, and that was in the form of these “white elephant gift exchange parties.” Okay, so these are basically Christmas parties, but no one at the university would dare say the word “Christmas” because that might be offensive. It turns out that everyone in my wife’s office hosts one of these.
“When do you host one?” I asked my wife, Renee.
“Well, I can’t,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Ever seen that Christmas Story movie?” She asked.
“The BB Gun movie? Yeah, I love that movie!”
“You know how the neighbors are the Bumpuses and they have all those annoying hound dogs?” She held her arms out wide, palms raised.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Honey,” she pointed at a couch full of hunting beagles,” We are the Bumpuses!”
“Nah,” I said, “Not at all. I think those might have been bloodhounds in the movie. We have beagles.”
“Well, anyway, I hold ours at the church, so no one has to endure begging from beagles while they eat cookies and store bought eggnog. I already had my party. You haven’t made any of these office parties, because you have been hunting every time we have one.”
“That makes sense,” I saId.
“Well, everyone else brings their husbands!”
“They probably don’t hunt,” I said, “Poor fellows.”
“There is one white elephant gift party left, and please could you go?”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow, at seven o’clock and it will be dark, and you will be home from the woods.”
“Why is is called white elephant?” I asked.
I will summarize her answer as I understand it. They have a half dozen of these parties, and to save money on gift giving, each couple brings a used item, wrapping it. The first person opens a gift and keeps it. Then the next person does the same and can keep it or trade with the first gift. The third person opens a gift and can keep it or trade with either the first or second person. And so on. At the end, the last person opens the final gift and can keep it or swap with anyone else. Obviously, you want to be in the last person to open your gift, and then you get whatever you want. The order in which gifts are open is determined by drawing numbers out of a hat.
“Alright, I said, “I can make it, I guess.”
I was hunting the next day, not long before dark, when my cellphone started buzzing in my pocket. I ignored it. It buzzed. And again. A fourth time.
“Hello?” I whispered into the phone.
“I wont get to the house before this party, because I have to stay on campus to get a class session started.” Renee was frantic.
“What party?” I whispered.
“Are you kidding me! The white elephant party. We talked about this yesterday.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“The dogs are chasing a rabbit, and I do not want to give away my location to the rabbit. I gotta go, they are getting close.”
“Hey!” Renee yelled, “I need you to go home when you are done, wrap up a nice present that people will like and use, and then meet me at the party. I will text you the address.”
“No problem, your gal pals all have dogs right?”
“Yes. What are you goin—“
“I gotta get ready to shoot.” I hung up.
I cleaned rabbits, went home, fed dogs, and actually got to the party before Renee. I walked in with my gift in a long box that originally held a floor lamp. I couldn’t find wrapping paper, so I just duct taped it shut.
“You must be Bob,” a gal opened the door, “I am Mary.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said.
“We say Happy Holidays, to be inclusive.”
“Ah,” I said, “No Christians here?”
“Um, actually, I think everyone here is a Christian.” She sipped her eggnog and scratched her head as she took a faith inventory of the room, “Yeah. All Christians.”
“Well then, Happy Holidays,” I held out the box.”
“Just put it over there in the pile,” Mary said, “But we all know it is a lamp!”
I chatted with a guy named Chad about some computer stuff he does and that I do not understand, and then with a nervous guy named Mike, whose wife yelled at him a lot, and then Renee finally showed up.
“You didn’t wrap the present,” she asked me, trying not to move her mouth as she talked.
“I couldn’t find the wrapping paper,” I tried to be a ventriloquist too.
“It was right inside the front door.”
“Ah,” I said, “I used the basement door.”
“The wrapping paper has been there for weeks!”
“Oh yeah?” I said.
When gift time came, My gift was opened early, “We could use a lamp, the husband of the couple said.” They then pulled out a tie out stake. The sort that we use to put hounds on the ground at field trials or after hunts, to drink water and do their business and not wander off to—you know—be hounds.
“What did you do?” Renee glared at me.
“That one is hardly used,” I said, “And it is one of the big ones, almost three feet long, made for big dogs. You know I switched over to the new ones, only eighteen inches, when they started making them. Plenty deep into the ground to hold a beagle.”
“Oh, a mystery!” Mike said as he held it up.
“What is that thing?” His wife screamed and Mike flinched.
“That is a—“ Renee covered my mouth.
“You can’t tell us,” Mary said, “If someone doesn’t know what it is, then the people have to decide if it might be valuable or not. At the end you can tell them what it is,, if they still do not know.”
“How often does it happen that you do not know what it is?” I asked.
“Usually most people know what it is,” Mary said, but I do not recognize this thing. Anyone else?” It turns out that no one knew what a tie out stake is. This was a good one too, with a sideways U at the top that sat on a swivel so that the dog could not wrap the attached chain around the stake and get choked. Picture, if you will, a really long stake shaped like the letter “P” but the vertical line of the “P” is ten times longer—thirty inches to be precise.
“You are in so much trouble,” Renee poked an elbow into my side.
“You are a dog person,” Mike said, “I bet it is a dog leash that is also a walking cane. I think we should keep it.”
“The next person took the stake too, “I bet this thing is for holding down your beach chair so the waves don’t move it!” the woman said as she swapped a wooden bowl for the stake.
“I bet it is a thing for smoothing cement!” Chad traded for it, “And my brother-in-law could use this thing.”
“I think it is for helping you get out of the snow if your car gets stuck, that looks like a snow chain,” another gentleman said, taking it. The ideas just kept coming. We opened up a little coaster that heats your coffee mug. “Coffee doesn’t last long enough to get cold,” Renee said, “We will take the wooden bowl, since it is against the rules to get your own gift back.”
When it was all said and done, we showed them a picture of the tie out stake in action.
“That’s close to what I thought it was!” The recipient of the stake said, “I figured it was a toddler retention system to keep them safe in the yard, it attaches to the belt loop!”
“Oh,” I said, “I would be afraid of a kid running and falling on the steel stake, even though it is rounded. But if you are going to do that, I can get you another one for when you set up play dates.”
“Oh, that is so kind,” the young mother said, “You really made this white elephant gift exchange party quite interesting.”
“Merry Christmas!” I held my eggnog in the air.
“Merry Christmas!” Everyone yelled, sipping their eggnog and eating cookies.
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