Gift Cards, Best Friends, and Buddhism

My daughter calls me with a concern. What about gift cards? She has “a ton” of them – from a variety of stores, for a variety of amounts. What should she do? She is clearly looking for motherly direction. I stall a little, “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know,” she says, “I just thought of it. Do they ‘count’?” Well, I say, cautiously. I am making this up as I go, you see. Yes, I think they ‘count’ because the end result of using them is still acquiring – and the point is to not acquire. Then I get practical. Will they expire? No, she says but some of them might start to lose their value. I come up with two suggestions for that circumstance, both of which satisfy her. One is to use them, if possible, for the winter coat and boots that are her “exceptions” (similar to my sneakers) that we negotiated from the start. The other is to use their value to purchase gifts as necessary. Her friends are having babies so this could perhaps be useful. But if the cards don’t expire and won’t lose value, put them away and forget about them for a year. Problem solved.

We catch up with each other a few nights later. She asks me what I’m doing and I tell her that I’m looking around at my stuff, contemplating what I can get rid of. She giggles and tells me she’s been doing the same thing. She’s eyeing her book shelf – all the novels that she’s read and will never read again or that she hasn’t read and won’t. I tell her I’m thinking about my 33 rpm record album collection from the 60s and 70s. We laugh conspiratorially. Neither one of us is ready to start selling or giving away all our possessions but we are seriously considering what we want to surround ourselves with (or not).

I tell my best friend about our commitment over lunch before a matinee. She gives me a look that I interpret as between shock and revulsion. “Why would you want to do that?” she demands. After all, shopping is our mutual definition of ‘fun’. For a minute, I am a teensy bit sorry I brought up the subject – if you recall, I don’t like having to defend myself, but I keep going. “I have so much,” I say. “I don’t really need anything.” She acknowledges that this is also true of her, but still – there is that thrill of acquisition. Why would I want to give that up? We talk another few minutes about it, then head to the theater. Later, during intermission, she allows that she’s been thinking about what she could give up for a year. She declares absolutely not to clothes, bags, shoes, and product. Those are out of the question. But, she says, she could give up buying new things for the house. We both bought our apartments the year we turned 50 – and we’ve had enormous amounts of fun decorating. I nod in agreement – I’ve already declared that moratorium but I’m ready to support her if she decides to go that route. Supporting her means I won’t egg her on when she’s standing in a store weighing whether or not to purchase another item she doesn’t need.

Later, I send her the link to my just-launched blog. She wonders how I will find time for this and then answers her own question (witty and clever person that she is) – I will use the time I have saved by not shopping. She continues teasing me, asking “Are we skidding toward Buddhism? And would you be happy with a floor mat and a bowl?”

Very funny, I tell her. I could probably embrace Buddhism, but ix-nay on the floor mat and bowl!