Don’t Buy Me Stuff

Back in my 20s when a good friend and I both lived in London, we used to take each other to the theatre for our respective birthdays. We both loved musicals and drama, and it was a wonderful and generous way for us to treat each other. It also helped that our birthdays were several months apart, so we got to see new shows every six months for a couple of years.

Fast-forward 20 odd years. Through good fortune and hard graft, I am lucky enough to have a beautiful home and a lot of stuff. More stuff, in fact, than I truly need. My family also has a lot of stuff, especially my kids. When stuff breaks or gets outdated or replaced by a newer better version of stuff, we get new stuff. Old stuff gets donated, recycled or thrown away.

So.Much.Stuff.

Too.Much.Stuff.

I’d being lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the stuff; that the fruits of our hard work enable us to acquire things. Some of these things we need, or at least we claim we need. Most of it we really don’t need, but we like to have, own, use, show off.

I feel guilty about all the stuff. Compared to others that are not as fortunate. I’d like to not only give away more stuff to those with more need but I’d also like to not acquire as much new stuff.

Charity starts at home, as they say. My kids need to learn that stuff doesn’t really matter. They don’t need to constantly buy or be bought new things. The need to understand the value of what they already have. And understand that being generous doesn’t always mean giving stuff away, though it’s a start. It’s our job to set this example, practice what we preach.

I’m thinking about this topic as my birthday is approaching in a few weeks. Birthdays, especially for kids, become the epicenter of getting more stuff. Often nice stuff. Maybe stuff we need but won’t buy for ourselves.

So here’s the thing. Please don’t buy me stuff. I have more than I deserve already. If I want, ‘need’ or desire something, I can go buy it myself.

Instead, treat me to experiences. Take me to the theatre. Let’s have a day trip. A picnic on the beach. Let’s do something unexpected and crazy and fun. It may cost money but maybe not.

You see, the more stuff you have, the more it collects dust. It becomes hard to find the one bit of stuff you value the most when there’s a whole big, dusty pile of stuff.

The opposite happens with experiences. Each experience can be treasured both in the moment, and after. Experiences can be shared. Experiences don’t degrade with time. Every time you unwrap them in your memory, they are lush with emotions, vivid with detail.

So, please don’t buy me stuff. I don’t intend to be ungrateful. I know there’s pleasure in selecting a gift for someone. I’m sorry if this request denies you that pleasure.

How’s this for a deal? I’ll treat you to an experience too. That’s way we’ll all have memories to cherish instead of piles of more stuff.

Kids and Shoes and the Empty Wallet

As previously noted, I’m not a big fan of feet. The only exception being babies and little kids’ whose feet  have yet to become marred by age, ill-fitting shoes, ingrown toenails, hairy toes, and general ugliness and stinkiness.

But the real screw-over when it comes to kids and their feet are … shoes. The reality of this great rip off is you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

Your options:

  1. Spend an extraordinary amount of money on well-made, nicely-fitted shoes like Stride Rites. Only to have your child grew out of them in roughly 8-10 weeks.
  2. Spend as little as possible at Payless or Target on questionably-made but OK-fitting shoes. Only to have them fall apart due to wear and tear in roughly 8-10 weeks.

Given that I naturally err on the side of being cheap, I usually go for option 2 but always regret it as the day inevitably and all-too-quickly arrives when there’s a huge rip in the toe or the insides fall out or the fasteners no longer fasten.

I was mighty impressed when the new – cheap – sneakers I bought my kids back in June survived the 8-9 weeks of summer camp. Yes, they were filthy and worn but they still worked. But a week at Disney pushed them over the edge. Perhaps it was the 4-5 miles walked each day in 95 degree heat and humidity that finished them off. Or maybe it was the soaking they received on our final day, followed by an hour spent in the drier so they’d be dry enough to wear on the journey home.

Either way, one pair came home with rips and holes. The other pair more or less survived – except for the fact that I managed to leave them behind in our hotel.

So today both my kids are proudly sporting nice new sneakers. Bought on the cheap. Should last us till – oh, Halloween if we’re lucky.

Exhibit A

Exhibit A

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