An article in CNBC reported that “over 50 percent of surveyed shoppers with incomes of $100,000 or more said they can ‘easily afford’ holiday expenses in 2024.” But what do those who fall into lower income brackets do? They get creative. Many folks in this demographic have also come to realize that the cost of a gift isn’t what makes it meaningful.
In 1983, I was a freshman in college, and though my older brothers and I weren’t little kids, my mom still enjoyed celebrating Christmas together and giving us a few gifts. That year, however, she had to focus on purchasing necessities, and a Christmas tree didn’t fit into that category. I don’t remember the circumstances around why she was so strapped, but we were accustomed to financial uncertainty. She was an antique dealer; she and my father were both visual artists. Though they both worked consistently, there were years when food stamps were necessary, and back-to-school clothes shopping consisted of hand-me-downs from cousins. There were also years when my brothers and I found several gifts under the tree, and we could pay for groceries with cash, not stamps.
I remember feeling a bit embarrassed and a little sad that we couldn’t afford a tree. Mom and I loved unpacking the delicate antique ornaments together and hanging up our favorites. My friend who lived across the hall had a fully decorated tree already, and several presents piled up underneath it. Though I knew I was being self-centered, my heart sank when I realized I’d probably not receive any gifts that year.
On Christmas morning, we all gathered for breakfast, and although there wasn’t a tree, Mom handed us each a present. I was completely taken aback. I felt like I did when I was a little kid, when my brothers and I would race down the stairs to open our presents.
Somehow she had managed to pick out the most befitting gifts –– ones that certainly couldn’t be found in any mall. I was in art school, and at that age I went out of my way to dress as uniquely as I could. I was rebellious, and longed to be anything but mundane. Mom’s gift to me was an antique fur muff that was soft, warm, a tad bizarre, and anything but mundane.
For my brother Mark, who loved music, radios, and cars, Mom presented him with a 1976 Mark Twain Riverboat radio. Paul, a year younger than Mark, was into all things related to nature. Mom gave him an old, beautifully illustrated book on making log cabins, with an inscription wishing one for him someday.
We didn’t have a tree with our favorite ornaments and sparkly lights, and Mom didn’t spend thousands of dollars on gifts for us, but what she gave us meant so much more. She loved each of us precisely for who we were, and she celebrated our individuality through the gifts she chose. As corny as it may sound, it was one of the best Christmases I’ve ever had.
