No Muss, No Fuss. Letters are the Simplest Gifts of All

Clunky jewelry. Bad lawn art. Ugly sweaters. Unnecessary kitchen appliances. Vacuum cleaners. What do all these unrelated items have in common?

Sadly, these are some of the “surprise” gifts that my friends’ husbands gave them for holidays, birthdays, and other special occasions. I would hear about them after the fact, when my friends had recovered from the initial disappointments. Even though it is the thought that counts, some would lament the fact that their lovers could not now or probably ever get it right. Their husbands simply had no idea at all how to pick out a special gift for them –not without very strong hints or detailed lists to go by.

I have been luckier than this, as my husband has always (well, nearly always) picked out sweet, thoughtful gifts for birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmas. For 39 years, he’s delighted me with his selections, beginning with the one he gave me after our first date. They have typically been well-aligned with my personality and showed a sensitivity to my interests. They’ve often been romantic (a lovely piece of jewelry to mark an important milestone) or have been practical things (like garden shears or fuzzy slippers) that I have really wanted or needed. Sometimes he’d ask me for ideas, but often, he’d go it alone. That extra effort was always noted and deeply appreciated by me. It showed that he was willing to invest his time and effort in order to please me.

Sometimes when he’d asked me for gift ideas, I’d say, “You don’t need to get me anything. Just write me a poem or love letter instead.” He would scoff–as if he didn’t believe my request. He seemed to think that I must not really mean it. Legitimate gift’s, we’ve been taught, must be material items to be real. I think this view is common—especially among current generations.

Only in relatively recent times did the majority of Americans have the material wealth to exchange gifts in the ways we do now. Gifts were usually much simpler, there were fewer of them, and due to limited dollars, they also needed to be more practical than those given today. Each year, for example, my grandfather, who worked very hard for a living, would have the excitement of getting some new underwear or tee-shirts under the Christmas tree. There were simpler expectations then which made buying a gift for someone that much easier.

My grandmother didn’t have a lot of money either, so she took the time to show her love, not by giving lavish gifts, but by doing something special for someone–something that required her thoughtfulness, time, and handiwork to complete. Sometimes, when her eyes were still strong, she would go all in on crocheting gifts for members of the family. She was known for her simple, crocheted lap blankets, winter scarves, hats, and potholders. The fact that they were handmade made them special. I still have and use her lap blanket nearly every day during the winters, nearly 50 years later. The blanket’s colors of reds and browns and golds remind me of the 1970’s, our family parties, and the color schemes of most people’s living rooms at the time. They speak of her modest means, her generous heart and of her desire to go beyond the material plane of our existence.

In addition to her handmade, practical presents, Grandma also gifted me with handwritten letters over a number of years. These represented a different kind of handiwork. They also required thoughtfulness, application of care, time, and her creativity. Her letters were chatty, but also deep and profound at times. I still have all of them, now carefully protected. While she did buy us small gifts as well, I mostly remember the gift of her time and attention which were delivered to me in her envelopes, to locations far from my family home. Her letters meant more to me then than anything she could have purchased at a local department store.

Today, we spend so much more per capita on gifts and seem to appreciate them less and less. We have moved beyond practical gifts to those that are oftentimes unessential or simply luxury items. Many gifts end up unappreciated, returned or exchanged, re-gifted, or stuffed into already over-crowded closets.

As we get older, we need less of this stuff. My wish now tends toward wanting to simplify rather than to acquire. I know that many of my friends feel the same way. We know that “stuff” comes to own us, making us feel mentally weighed down and physically stuck in place.

Why not take a different approach, help the planet, reduce the clutter, and make someone incredibly happy at the same time?  Instead of the annual Christmas sweater, the latest electronic gadget, or 15^th new coffee mug, why not write a letter instead? It may take a bit of time for the recipient to get over the initial let-down of not receiving that new “whiz bang” kitchen appliance they thought they needed, but on reflection, I am guessing that your letter might be one of the few gifts you gave that was saved and remembered by them for a lifetime.

Sometimes the most meaningful, precious things are free or nearly free. What gift, I ask, could cost less than a postage stamp and a few pages of stationery? I challenge you to find one. Handwritten letters are a solution to our gift-giving problems that is almost too good to be true. The cheapest and most meaningful gift of all, it turns out, has been there right in front of us all the time. Why not surprise someone with a letter from your heart and keep your wallet full at the same time?

Rather than wonder if you got your friend or loved one the “right” gift and agonize over the purchase and the price, you can promote the most sustainable, green gift of all. While you are at it, why not have a tree planted for your loved one in their name and make your gift even better.

Take a risk. Save the planet. Melt a heart. Be a letter writer!