For some odd reason I tend to get a lot of rocks as gifts. I don't know why, I don't ask for them yet they keep arriving. We're not talking rocks in the form of diamonds, or any other decretive type, but home grown, find them in your driveway variety. Don't get me wrong it's not exactly what the gift is but the thought that counts...right?
It all began when I was in high school...
We were playing in a summer basketball league and somehow our roster got screwed up so we got put on what was essentially an all star team (and I was there too). It was a bunch of good players from my home town and then some of the best players from another school who we kind of knew but got to be pretty good friends with throughout the season, one of which gave me my very first rock gift.
It's not a very funny story, just a little odd. We were leaving the gym after another dominating performance (we convinced the other team that we were homosexual so they had a hard time concentrating while we were posting up and such) and my friend, let's call him Mitch, was putting his bag into his car when all of a sudden he pulled out a rock from his back seat and asked if I wanted it. I took it as a sign of our friendship, and also figured if he was going to offer me a rock I'd make him look like a jerk and take it!
That was 13 years ago and I still have the rock to this day...maybe I belong on that hoarders show?!
Random circumstances kept bringing myself and rocks together throughout the years so that now I have red rocks, rocks that look like they should have fossils in them, and occasionally I even received hardened animal feces...but it's the thought right?...right?
The latest rock I received this past Christmas from my nephew, and I know what you're thinking; "ah that's so sweet!" Well, you're wrong. I spend a lot of time with my nephew and niece, they come over just about every day to get help with their homework, I coach my nephew in basketball, and if there is a high school basketball game in town I try to take them...I have never explained to them anything about my history of getting rocks as gifts.
So shortly before Christmas my nephew comes up to me with a list of about 500 things he's expecting for Christmas...because it's the thought blah blah blah... I look it over and tell him, that he has to pick a few things that he really likes and I'll see what I can come up with for him. He knows he has a real sucker on his hands and figures he will get whatever he wants from me so he aims high. A new Wii for his dad's place, $100 basketball shoes, a pony, a live Elvis concert and a ticket for the first commercial trip to the moon...maybe not that extreme but really, the things he was asking for...I found myself questioning just how much do I really like this kid? Am I even sure we're blood related?
A few days later he comes over to do some homework and brings my dad a pizza cutter he got at some career day thing or science fair, I don't know I'm too busy trying to resurrect Elvis, or at least find what island he's hanging out on these days. The pizza cutter is to become a Christmas present from my nephew to my dad...the pizza cutter was not on my dad's list (FYI).
A couple more days go by and my nephew is constantly reminding me about what he wants for Christmas and with each day he gets a little more anxious and dare I say demanding...? "I will not take the second flight out, I won't let that son of a bitch Timmy beat me to the moon. It's bad enough he beat me in monkey bar chicken."
Finally, he comes walking in a few days before Christmas. I've already spent $3.5 billion dollars on booking his flight and a year's supply of hay for that stupid pony. He has a smile on his face and tells me he got me a Christmas present. I know he's on a fixed income depending on the amount of chores he accomplished that week but still somehow I'm thinking to myself, "wow, I guess he really does care." He tells me to close my eyes and open my hand, so I do. I don't know what to expect but then I feel it drop into the palm of my hand...I know what it is before I even open my eyes. A rock. Not some nice rock with a cool design on it, or something he got at a gift shop on a trip, not even a GD moon rock!
I ask him where he found it and he said he was kicking around his driveway and saw it and thought of me (ahh...sweet!) No. Not sweet. My nephew was kicking around dirt, found a crappy old rock, and thought of me?! Really?! But it's my nephew. He's only 11 years old and he doesn't know yet about giving gifts. You know, how we all say crap like, "it's the thought that counts." When we really mean, you better get me something that says just how much you love me or I'll see you in hell. Don't you love Christmas?
This whole blog came about because I was doing a little cleaning in my room today and I happened upon a few of these "gifts" that I have received over the years...yeah I still have them. Even though I find myself all pissed off at the time I receive them, they are a very unique (and crappy) thing to give to somebody. Each one has it's own unique story and a special meaning in my heart.
In case you were wondering...I chucked that piece of crap my nephew gave me into the river. (It was tied to the leg of his pony)
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