Beech Tree News Network

On Saturday morning, I received the following text from my niece:  Wanted you to know that the rule for this year for the game is you have to be there to play.  We decided on Thanksgiving.  The “we” she referred to was “she” as in her, my niece.  The game is Dirty Santa.  For those of you who have never played, here’s how it works.  Each person at the Christmas gathering—for us, it’s my extended family in Taylorsville—brings a gift.  The gift can be whatever you want it to be, expensive, cheap or even a prank gift.  (One of my personal favorites was the year my brother, Mark, wrapped up a pink bunny sleeper, just like the one Ralphie’s aunt bought him in the movie, “A Christmas Story.”  Mark wrapped it in beautiful foil paper, and my sister-in-law ended up with it.  She thought it was as hilarious as the rest of us did.)

          But I digress.  Everybody puts the gifts they bring onto a big table then each person draws a number from one to however many people there are playing the game.  Number one gets first choice then the person with the second number chooses then the third, etc. etc.  If you like what the person before you chose, you can take their gift, and they will have to choose again, hence the name, Dirty Santa.

          My niece decided you have to be present in order to participate, because last Christmas, a couple of people got sick at the last minute and sent their gifts on anyway then let someone play for them by proxy.  I understood.  They had bought gifts and didn’t just skip out on us, but I guess she saw it differently.

          About mid-morning on Saturday, my niece sent me the following text: Forgot to tell you, $15 is the limit on the gift and no prank gifts.  And no clothes.  I texted back: I’ll do the “no clothes” but I’m protesting the $15 limit and the no prank gifts.  I added a big red X emoji at the end.

          My niece texted back: I’m just the messenger.  We did the $15 limit thinking anything more than that may be too much for some, and I personally think prank gifts are a waste.

          “Ah,” I said to myself, “Now, we are getting to the real issue.”  My niece got the prank gift last Christmas—a pair of men’s work gloves, wrapped in beautiful foil paper.  (A word to any would-be participants in the Dirty Santa game: Stay away from the foil-wrapped gifts. They’re a trap!)

          Around noon on Saturday, I received a call from my sister, Lorrie, asking me if I’d received my niece’s text then telling me Mom was torn up about the whole thing.  I knew why Mom was upset.  She works hard to make sure everyone is included and happy around the holidays, and she felt like all the new rules would alienate some family members.  I told my sister to tell Mom not to worry, because I know how to deal with Fun Police, like my niece, and I have a plan.

          I plan on showing up at our Christmas gathering with one gift that costs $16 or more—I will leave the price tag on the gift for everyone to see.  I will also wrap a prank gift—my old can opener that just quit running or maybe a basket of plastic Easter eggs.  I will wrap it in newspaper just to throw everyone off the scent.  I’m going to bring a gift from my cat, Figaro, because he won’t be able to come, because…well, because he’s a cat.  I will insist he should not be discriminated against and I will draw a number then pick out a gift.

          I understand that I run the risk of bringing more chaos to an already unstable situation, but sometimes you have to shake things up in order to get them to work for everybody.  If we just go along with what my niece wants, there is going to be a lot of silent resentment and possibly the end of our Christmas gathering altogether.  I, for one, don’t want to see that happen.  Besides, I’m a rule breaker from way back.  This is going to be fun.