CHRISTMAS SHOPPING TAKES PRESENTS OF MIND

It's December, so I've been spending more time than usual wandering through local hardware stores.

Translated, that means I have to find a Christmas present for my father. He's issued a moratorium on aftershave, sweaters, ties and handkerchiefs, so I've had to actually set foot inside a hardware store in a desperate attempt to find something he might want.

Since he owns every tool that will fit in his basement without overloading the circuit breakers, that's not as easy as it sounds.

It doesn't help much, either, that I can't tell a reciprocating saw from a hole in the ground.

Everyone else in my family makes out wish lists for Christmas. Not Pop. He says, "Surprise me."

After all these years of socket wrench sets and funny socks, you'd think he'd know better.

He has all the music he wants, and movies on video are a tricky business. Westerns, World War II and Looney Tunes cartoons are good choices, but we've already gotten most of what's available.

Buying presents for people you've literally known all your life should be simple, but it rarely is. For one thing, after 20 or 30 years, most people start to run out of ideas.

My father has just about everything he needs, including enough sweaters to see him through the next century.

He does need fresh supplies of socks and underwear. His mother used to give him both those items at every Christmas and birthday. Frankly, I can't see myself gift-wrapping a three-pack of white cotton boxer shorts.

Maybe a nice cap.

A former co-worker used to complain that his wife returned every gift he ever bought her, Christmas, birthday or anniversary. She was never, he said, satisfied.

I wonder what his wife had to say on the subject.

I suppose the perfect gift, for Christmas or any other occasion, acknowledges the recipient's unique needs, traits and preferences without making him or her seem out-and-out weird.

As Miss Woolcott, my kindergarten teacher, said, there's no point giving a present if you're not going to give a nice one.

For example, a friend I've known since grade school collects self-help books the way some people collect "Precious Moments." Her pity-parties could make Liz Smith's column.

Does that mean I'll tuck a tome guaranteed to repair any of her various, and probably overmagnified, neuroses into her Christmas stocking?

I think not.

Buying a book to fix your own problems is one thing. Giving someone else a book on stupid things women do to mess up their lives is a whole 'nother ball game. If I give her that book, will she think I think she's screwed up her life? And whose life is it anyway?

There are a few things I'd rather not unwrap on Christmas morning, including any books on the latest weight-loss regime or guerrilla dating tactics.

I'm OK, Santa's OK. That's my mantra.

I wouldn't be surprised if there's a book out there on what gifts from friends tell you about yourself, and why you shouldn't let it bother you.

If it exists, it's not on my Christmas list.

~Peggy O'Farrell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.