As I do every year, I did it as a
little tip of the hat to my grandfather. I mean, I don't actually
wear a hat, so it wasn't a literal “tip', but you get the idea,
right?
My grandfather died thirty years ago,
but in a way I see him every day. You know those ungainly long legs
and arms I'm always complaining about? They come from him. The
sunken eyes, too. I'm sure that I picked up a few of my odd quirks
and idiosyncrasies from him, as well. Those quirks may be lurking in
the background, or they may present themselves out in the open like
one in particular that happens every Christmas Day.
And that's what I'm talking about here.
When I was a kid, my grandfather would
slowly unwrap his gifts and then, if at all humanly possible, put the
present back in the wrapping paper and make it look as close to an
unwrapped gift as he could. I don't know why; all I know is he did
it, and it made him happy. I grew up watching him do it, and
probably pretty much every year since he passed away, I've tried to
carry on the tradition.
Here's this year's example--
Because I have nowhere near the skill
level that he had, I always have to try it with a book. I'll slowly
undo the tape (much to Loraine's consternation, who just wants me to
get on with it), pull the book out, see what it is, thank who gave it
to me, and then slip the book back into the wrapping paper, where it
sits in its little cage acting as my little tribute to my
grandfather, at least until I open it again to read the book, which I
did last night (but not before taking the picture you see above).
Yeah, I know. I need help.
8-)
There's no real reason for me to do it
other than to carry on a rather weird tradition, but you know what?
For me, at least, it wouldn't seem like Christmas without doing it.
And then every year in January when I re-unwrap the gift, I smile a
little smile and think back to a guy who left an impression on me,
not only with those long arms & legs I see every day, but in a
much more quirky way, as well.
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