A Bag of Figs

I saw a lot of strange and amazing things growing up around the world, but one thing I rarely saw was my mother’s appreciation when presented with a gift package. It didn’t matter who the gift came from or what the occasion. Any gift passed into her hands would be met with a scornful, “Now what’s this?” If it came from her kids, she’d add, “I’ve told you, I don’t need anything!”, or “How many times have I told you I don’t need anything?” With friends, her response was slightly more polite: “Oh, for heaven’s sake! There was no need for this.”

But there was one exception to my mom’s pushbacks, and that was whenever my uncle Ernie showed up with his bag of figs. Joy is impossible to hide, and a bag of figs seemed to electrify her. As she peeked inside her gift bag, anyone could feel a vibratory shift in her energy as if a magic wand had just tapped her on the head.

As she rightfully saw it, the bag of figs was more than a package of fruit. It was a truckload of love from a brother-in-law she adored who thought nothing of driving 50 miles up the interstate highway just to say hello. Both of them understood that the most meaningful gifts were the least ostentatious, cost nothing but a space of time, and always came from a place deep within the heart.

But not everyone shares this wisdom. Too many people measure themselves (and others) by the value of the gifts they can afford. An expensive registry gift may be out of the question, but some people still justify overextending their credit just to measure up. Just to be well thought of. Just to stay off someone’s sh*tlist—and just to avoid any gossip associated with it.

Similar attitudes were at work decades ago when I received a surprise visit from a 14-year-old boy who apparently was crushing on me. To impress me, he bought me a gargantuan teddy bear so tall and wide it barely fit through my front door. He told me he washed cars and mowed lawns for weeks to afford the extravagant gift, and for that reason I’ve never forgotten him but, sadly, there was no room for such a large gift in the bedroom I shared with my sister. Bigger is not always better.

My sister was also the recipient of many unique gifts, or rather conversation pieces. They came from patients she tended to at the Venice Family Clinic in Santa Monica during her career as a nurse practitioner. None of them could afford basic healthcare so, being of meager means, gift-giving was one small way they hoped to express gratitude for the service being rendered. One afternoon, a patient stopped by the clinic to leave my sister a two-foot tall medicine cabinet filled to capacity with carefully selected, inexpensive toiletries and other surprises. It screamed thank you. My sister was floored. She knew that the time spent preparing the gift was itself a demonstration of love.

After writing his song, “Can’t Buy Me Love,” Paul McCartney said, “The idea behind it was that all these material possessions are all very well, but they won’t buy me what I really want.”

Things are useful for a time, but they expire, fall out of fashion, break, or end up in a landfill. Words last. I keep letters, cards, and postcards that are all meaningful to me. This includes thoughtful emails, text messages, and comments I receive. They are my bag of figs. They sustain me. And I believe this is true universally. Everyone has their own bag of figs.

This month’s birthday greetings filled up my bag. The depth of love and appreciation I received in words were beyond. No purchased gift could have topped it. Next time my brain is tired and drained, I will pull out the bag and enjoy the treats all over again.