Neighbor Gifts

Time for some thoughts about Christmas treats for neighbors. Do you make them? It seems like neighbor gifts are an unwritten tradition in Utah. I've made them, everyone I know makes them. They're like a more elaborate version of Christmas cards.

Now, of course, neighbor treats can get complicated--I've heard in areas like Cedar Hills there's actually quite a bit of pressure to give treats that are elaborately prepared and presented, and I know of people who give out upwards of 40 or more little plates of goodies during the Christmas season. Nevertheless, for the most part they're a nice way to say, "Hey, neighbor. Happy Holidays. Amen."

We love our neighbors. We don't hang out with them, but we always say "hey" when we're mowing our lawns and we borrow a cup of sugar from each other from time to time. Thus, in an attempt to reach out (and keep those Utah traditions burning bright), Christmas Eve found Trent and me in the kitchen, cooking up a storm.

Together we rolled, frosted, baked, and decorated about 10 plates of cookies. Then, just as Lillian woke from her afternoon nap, we bundled ourselves up and began trotting around the neighborhood to send our good tidings of great Christmas joy.

Our first house was the one directly across the street, the home of Mike and Sheri. Their son, whose name I do not know, was playing basketball in the driveway. Lillian bolted for the basketball. The son kindly obliged. We knocked on the door while Lillian played in the driveway, and gave the plate of cookies to a gracious Sheri. As we were leaving, we unfortunately had to pry Lillian's fingers off the basketball; in simplest terms, Lillian was not pleased with us. Indeed, she began to wail. Then she worked herself into a full blown sobbing fit. We carted off the crying baby as we waved good-bye to Sheri who stood at the door holding the plate of cookies in her hand like she wasn't quite sure what to do.

It wasn't awesome, but it wasn't that big of a deal, either. It was time for a plate of cookies to Chuck and Holly. This is the part of the story where things got a little more crazy.

Chuck and Holly are just about as nice as you can get. They were equally gracious as Sheri, and, like Sheri, equally as surprised. At this point we were realizing that neighbor treats aren't really a tradition here in Upstate.

However, Holly nodded to Chuck as she accepted our plate of cookies. He ran out of the room and re-emerged a few moments later, producing what looked to be a lovely bottle of wine. "And this is for you," said Chuck, presenting the bottle with a flourish.

We paused. It was silent for a moment. And then Chuck added, "I mean, if you drink...."

Trent, the man who has an endless capacity for helping people feel at ease despite the awkwardness of any situation, placed a hand on Chuck's arm. "Oh, you are so nice! Well, thank you! But...we don't drink."

Awkward silence ensued.

Chuck then said, "well...do you know anyone you could give this to?"

More awkward silence.

"uh,....we actually don't. But, oh, thank you so much for the gesture...."

"Well these cookies look REALLY REALLY GOOD" said Holly.

We talked a moment more. At this point I was sweating a little bit. As we stood there attempting small talk I started to worry: Do we say more? Or if we say more does that just make it more awkward? Should we just take the wine with a smile? Do we drop it? Do we bring it up again? In any case, we dropped the issue, and soon enough we were out the door. Despite how awkward the moment had been at Chuck and Holly's, we had more neighbors to go to. We moved from Chuck and Holly to a middle-aged widower who moved into our neighborhood a couple of months ago.

We knocked on his door as Lillian, who by the way, had not stopped crying since the basketball incident, continued to wail.

"Merry Christmas!" we said over her sobs as our neighbor came to the door. He was limping a little and told us he was recovering from knee surgery. "Sorry we made you get up," we said. "We just wanted to say Merry Christmas to you!"

Trent then asked how he would be spending the Christmas holiday.

"Actually, I won't be," he said, "I'm Jewish."

"Right on!" said Trent. "Well Happy New Year to you! Enjoy these treats!"

At that point, Lillian just gave up and sunk into the snow in a dither of tears and despair. So, we picked her up and trudged back home. Yeah, I know, not quite the story you're going to read about next month in the Ensign. Dangit.

What is the lesson here? Ultimately, I think we realized that neighbors gifts here in Upstate NY are gifts of the heart, given without guile and accepted without expectation. And sometimes you might be better served to just take the bottle of wine with a smile and a "Happy Hannukah."