Mike Murray essay -- Secret Santa, Secret Wish

10 December 2009

Secret Santa, Secret Wish

-- by Mike Murray

My wife says I’m hard to shop for, that she never knows what to get for me. So she asked me this year to help her out, to drop some hints about what I’d like for Christmas. And I found myself perplexed.

It used to be such an easy question: “What do you want...?” For Christmas, my birthday – whatever. When I was a kid, you could have asked me months in advance and I would have had an answer ready for you. But this year, my wife’s query left me speechless.

When I was young, I wanted so many things. I wasn’t quite as desirous as the character in the Charlie Brown Christmas special. You know the one I mean: the one who had an extensive list for Santa that she dictated to her older brother. She concluded her letter to Old St. Nick by suggesting that he simply send “cash.” All she wanted, she asserted, “is what I have coming.” All she wanted was her “fair share.”

Almost everyone in the viewing audience could chuckle at that, could feel superior to the self-directed little girl on the television screen. Because, after all, each could tell himself that he was not so greedy. But it was only in the matter of degree that the rest of us differed from that child.

We all wanted many things. Very specific things. As all adults know, satisfying the desires of children is not easy. Doing so requires precision. It is not enough to gamely procure something “sort of like” what a child covets. “Close enough” doesn’t cut it. (It’s much more a case of “a miss is as good as a mile.”)

Even as a grownup, I have been picky. I recall one year in which my wife purchased for me a barometer. She knew that I like scientific things, and so felt confident that she had chosen wisely. It was an attractive-enough gadget. But its scale graduations were too general for my taste. I wanted something a bit more sophisticated.

My disappointment sent my wife back to the store, where she exchanged the object for a more suitable one. When she arrived back home, I eagerly opened the package she presented me. I was very-much pleased with her second choice. But I was startled by what she then shared with me.

She said the original barometer – the one she had returned – seemed hurt at the rejection. (You have to know my wife to fully appreciate that sentiment. She freely ascribes human emotions to inanimate objects. It’s one of the many things that I find charming about her.) Although I wasn’t particularly concerned about the “feelings” of a hunk of assembled metal, glass, and wood, I was nevertheless chastened by my lack of appreciation for a thoughtful gift.

That memory was refreshed this year when my wife posed the question regarding my wishes. I initially drew a blank. But I did manage to come up with a suggestion or two. Truth is, this time around I will be grateful for whatever she selects for me. Her heart is inevitably in the right place, her intentions always good.

Then, too, I already have my fair share of “stuff.” I already possess most of what I need, most of what I want. And what I do lack (or don’t have enough of), she can’t get for me. Things such as the vitality of youth. Knees that don’t creak. A back that doesn’t ache. A tad more patience. A bit more tolerance for things that annoy. The ability to express affection as easily as anger. Inner peace.

Most important of all, the health and well-being of those about whom I care most. Because, when misfortune visits them, it visits me, too. As do countless others, I suffer most when those precious to me are struggling.

And so, as luck would have it, life has belatedly presented me with a very large item for my Christmas wish list. In fact, it is now the only one on it. I am quite certain that it is the only one on my wife’s, too.

Mr. Kringle: I know it’s an awful lot to ask – even of someone with your impressive ability. But, just maybe, you could enlist the help of a Secret Santa – one whose powers dwarf even your own. I’ve been a pretty good boy this year. And I promise that I’ll try to be even better...