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All I (didn’t) want for Christmas

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Dear Santa,

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing to you about what presents I hoped to find under the tree on this Christmas morning. You’ve always been more than generous. But now, as I enter my so-called “golden years,” my needs, wants and desires have changed.

So, this year, I’m writing you a different kind of letter. This year I’m writing to explain to you all the things I didn’t want for Christmas.

Electronics. I am an i-troglodyte who still uses my first AOL email address. I do not have the capacity to learn how to operate yet another electronic device. My mental hard drive is full. Every time I get a notification about an update to one of my operating systems, I have a panic attack. The only way I can text is by painstakingly typing the letters one by one with my index finger. Then I have to go back and correct all the gibberish my typos and autocorrect created. Often it takes me several passes just to text the message, “See you later.” I’m convinced my smart phone, smartwatch and smart TV are all synced to make me feel dumb. Santa, I hope you deleted any electronic presents for me off your list.

Ties. With the rare exception of a wedding or funeral, I never wear a tie. Yet hanging in my closet are several dozen, most were Christmas gifts given to me over the last several decades. Hanging next to them is a full rack of sport coats, also spanning several decades past. (I almost never wear them, either). If time travel ever becomes a thing, no matter what era I’m transported to, I’m confident I have a jacket and tie to wear that will be in vogue. Until then, most days you will find me wearing an old T-shirt and sweatpants.

No thanks.

Scented Candles. I have never had a burning desire for my house to smell like French vanilla, recently-baked apple pie or pumpkin anything. Not to appear ungrateful, Santa, but whenever you’ve left me a scented candle, I’ve immediately re-gifted it to a local family in need of a better smelling house. Couple this with the fact that I lost most of my sense of smell thanks to COVID and I hope you’ll agree that no scents makes sense.

House Items. There is an old saying that at some point, you no longer own your possessions, they own you. I’ve reached that point. Now I’m all about decluttering. If someone comes over to my house and expresses even a passing interest in a vase, candelabra or fruit bowl, chances are good I’m sending them home with it. In fact, Santa, when you came by my place on Christmas Eve last night, I hope if you saw anything you thought Mrs. Claus might like, you took it with you back to the North Pole. Odds are I have two more of whatever you took up in the attic.

Experiences. If I had any interest in all on how to make artisanal cheese or tofu pork loin, I promise you, I would already have taken a cooking class in it. Ditto trapeze lessons, skydiving over the Grand Canyon and participating in a scavenger hunt in New York City’s Bowery District. These days I’m content to live vicariously through the weird, dangerous and ridiculous experiences of others, as meticulously chronicled on YouTube and TikTok.

Messaging Gifts. I don’t think it’s my place to hang a sign in my house lecturing people to “Live, Laugh and Love.” Nor do they need to be reminded that “Each Day is a New Beginning” or that “It’s Five O’ Clock Somewhere, Time to Drink Wine.” I don’t purport to be the “World’s Greatest” anything and I’m not going to lie and wear a t-shirt or drink from a coffee mug that claims otherwise.

So, Santa, that’s everything I didn’t want for Christmas. I appreciate your understanding my situation. On the other hand, having said all of this, I can always use socks and underwear.

Merry Christmas!

John

Ficarra is a freelance writer.

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