Buying parents gifts was always a challenge

Christmas is a time for giving. But as the youngest of six Smith kids, giving and receiving gifts was a fairly new concept.

Not much was expected when it came to giving presents to my sisters and brother — and I seldom disappointed.

The parents were another matter. They worked hard all year to provide for the family. Surely they anticipated receiving a thoughtful gift from each of their grateful children, especially from their youngest and possibly most talented. This posed a dilemma in my mind for the simple fact that the siblings were all substantially more than my 7 years and had actual money to spend. The oldest sisters worked at real jobs, the younger sisters earned money from doing odd jobs.

My brother, well, he worked and also had a bit of the Artful Dodger gene in him. There was no telling what might be under the tree if my brother Jim was in charge of rounding up the gifts. (He once gave me a slightly used go-kart with the admonishment: “Hey, don’t drive it during the day. And if a cop asks you where you got it, tell him you found it.” But I digress.)

Failing to provide a present for the siblings was a minor controversy. Mom and Dad posed the greater challenge. I was forced to answer the question all youngsters of a certain age ask when shopping for their parents: How can I get full credit for giving a gift — and still have that gift benefit me?

My normally empty pockets were flush with a fresh $5 bill courtesy of Grandma and Grandpa Smith’s annual Christmas card.

Come rain or shine, they were always good for a fiver at Christmas and continued to send me a freshly ironed Mr. Lincoln every year until my 31st birthday.

Shopping excursions to Montgomery Wards and Sears turned up very little that would interest the folks. The Sprouse-Reitz, usually a go-to place for inexpensive items, wasn’t clicking, either. I tried mightily to focus on finding suitable presents for Mom and Dad, but it was no use.

Mom didn’t really want that cheap bottle of cologne. What would Dad do with a pack of fresh razor blades?

Face it, they’d just get used up or put in a drawer.

Somehow, no matter to what store I traveled, my feet always found their way back to the sporting goods section, where a baseball-playing fiend like me found paradise on Earth in the fresh-leather smell of the gloves from Rawlings and Spaulding and Wilson and some lesser name brands that, face it, the pros wouldn’t use and no kid wanted to be caught with. I’d rather be seen modeling my big sister’s prom dress than wearing a glove from Wards or Kmart.

My mother once made the mistake of buying me a cheap knockoff-brand glove. That was more than 45 years ago. Wherever that faux-baseman’s mitt is today, I presume it’s still in the original box.

With time slipping away and only grandparent money to spend, an executive decision had to be made. Surely there were items that we’d all agree were useful presents for the parents.

After much consternation, I coughed up the cash.

I bought a $3 baseball for Dad and a 99-cent can of glove oil for Mom. That left just enough change for a couple packs of Topps baseball cards for myself.

Sure, I was cutting it close, but I figured the folks were baseball fans, too. And Christmas is a time for giving.

John L. Smith’s column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday … and Christmas. Email him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0295. Follow him on Twitter @jlnevadasmith.