It’s The Thought, Not The Cost

Wed., Dec. 25, 1996

Leonard Pitts Jr. Knight-Ridder

It is the question many of us ask this time of year, the one that so perfectly sums up all the wonder and meaning of the holiday season:

Brother, can you spare a dime?

Last week I paused in the mall, whipped out my calculator and confirmed my worst fears. That Christmas budget I had crafted so lovingly?

Busted like an egg in an earthquake.

Faced with this sobering news, I did the only thing I could. Continued shopping.

As I did, an original Christmas carol formed in my head, to the tune of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” It goes:

I’ll be broke for Christmas Poor as poor can be Spent a load on Christmas toys Paid too much for the tree Christmas Eve will find me Busted, tapped out, flat To get home for Christmas I’ll have to pass the hat

I can’t pretend to understand the fiscal insanity that strikes me every year. I can only say it feels like a fever dream. You’re handing out greenbacks like Monopoly money, smoke is rising from your credit cards, and somewhere in the basement of your brain, an alarm is going off. But it’s a warning dimly heard over the lovely “ka-CHING” of the cash registers.

Me, I’ve given up trying to escape the fever. My new attitude is: Brace yourself, pal, this is going to hurt. Maybe fiscal fatalism is just what one needs to survive the holidays while buying for a wife, five kids and a grand. Whatever the case, my financial strategy for Christmas is: (WARNING: IRRESPONSIBLE ADVICE AHEAD. EASILY INFLUENCED READERS ARE REQUESTED TO PROCEED IN AN ORDERLY FASHION DIRECTLY TO THE SPORTS PAGE. DO NOT REPEAT, DO NOT READ FURTHER.)

Go on and spend the money. What the heck? Only once will the kids be this age, only for a brief period in life will they spend Christmas mornings gathered around the tree waiting to see what miracles the previous eve has wrought. I’m not saying to raid the college fund, mind you, but if you can swing it … spend it.

Mom taught me that. Woman managed a budget so small she did her bookkeeping by microscope. Never could make ends meet - had to settle for getting them to nod at each other from across the room. But she had her priorities straight, man. Somehow, she always found money for the things that made her children smile.

That impressed me. Awed me, in fact.

And made me something of a dual personality - both cheapskate and spendthrift. Hoarding coins like Scrooge until something inside snaps loose from its moorings and starts whispering things like, “What do you think, you’re going to take it with you?”

Next thing you know … “ka-CHING!”

I know many people would say that’s anathema to the spirit of Christmas. They would say commercialism, the emphasis on filthy lucre, has subverted the spirit of Christianity’s holy day.

With respect, I disagree. Money is neither good nor bad, but neutral. Money is only a medium. The spirit of the day is giving. Indeed, what came to Christians that day if not a gift?

And here’s a secret I’ve learned: Giving feels good. Giving more than you thought you could feels great. Giving without regard to self is an unsurpassable high. And it doesn’t much matter whether the gift be the time you had set aside for selfish pursuits, the laughter you forgot you even had, the gaudy things money can buy, or all of the above.

The other day, I picked up gifts for a child whose name I plucked from a Salvation Army “angel tree.” It felt so good that I impulsively chose another child and bought something for him.

I could only imagine what their faces will look like on Christmas morning. But my own kids, thankfully, I will see. Their smiles will be eager, their eyes luminous. There will be squeals of delight and laughs of surprise. And then they will rush out to a street filled with excited children trying out new things.

Oh, it’s going to hurt some when the bills come. But that’s OK. The hurt is short-lived. The good feeling lasts.

xxxx

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