TODAY’S MUNDY: Climbing on the giftee-go-round [and a Cayman rum cake]
By Marian Mundy (the columnist can be reached at [email protected].]
From The Bernardsville News
I got this story from a close family member. Here’s how it happened.
The cell phone call came in around 8:30 p.m. “Mom,” it said, “Can you help me out of a jam? I’m with some friends and we’re waiting for a table. I need you to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. For Brian. Um. . . now.” The caller was a very pretty, sweet, recent college graduate with a new job in the big city, and living at home “temporarily.” “I’ll be home by 11,” she said.
“Emily,” the mom answers, “why do you want ME to bake cookies for YOUR boyfriend?”
“Cause tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day and I’m meeting him after work and I meant to get him something but I forgot. And I know he loves chocolate chips. Please, Mom. I’ll pay you back, promise.”
“Really. And exactly how will you pay me back?”
(Silence.) Then: “Uhm. . . uh. . . I’ll think of something. I know! I’ll take care of you in your old age. Deal?”
“Em, right now you should be baking instead of partying. I’ll bail you out this once because I’m so happy you have a job. But they won’t be scratch cookies. Lucky I have a mix.”
“I know. I saw it in the cupboard. He won’t know the difference. Thanks a bunch, Mom. Love you.”
As we can see, there are certain advantages to living at home.
A bit of background. The two young people were college classmates who met again through friends. They’re still in the getting-to-know-you phase. Neither one has an extensive history of gift-giving to members of the opposite sex. They’re both on pretty tight budgets, saving their pennies for essentials, like partying.
Awhile ago Brian gave Emily a bracelet. No special occasion. Just because he likes her. Emily thought that called for a reply gift. She hinted that she had a little Valentine something for him, hoping he’d pick up the hint. And, surprise, on Valentine’s Day she presented him with a gift box of lovely home baked cookies under a big red bow.
Wrappings courtesy of Mom’s mostly-recycled wrapping center.
Yes, he did get the “I-better-get-something-for”-her hint. With a flourish, he unveiled his big Valentine presentation, a large gold foil box containing a cake. Tightly wrapped in cello-shrink, the kind you need a machete to open, it was labeled Cayman Islands Rum Cake.
Emily carefully hid her disappointment that the unshakeable connection between Feb. 14 and chocolate had never percolated into the Brian brain. Everything about Brian’s lovely present said Airport. Subhead: Parents’ winter vacation last year. Obviously Brian had gone desperation shopping in his mother’s pantry.
See above comment about live-at-home advantages.
“Here, Mom,” Emily said later. “This is for you and Dad from Brian. I’m not really a rum fan.”
“Me neither,” said Emily’s mom. She stashed the Caribbean delight on the top shelf of HER pantry, thus giving the two moms a secret connection they would never know about.
And there it would remain until this day, if it hadn’t been time to visit Great-uncle Fred in the nursing home.
“Too bad I never liked rum in any form,” said Uncle Fred. “Now if it was a gin cake, you’d have my attention.”
So far the score was Giftees 4, Cayman Islands 0. It was beginning to look as if the Cayman Islands should stick to offshore bank accounts and forget exporting local baked goods, which were probably made in Miami anyway.
The fate of Brian’s parents’ unwitting largesse appeared to be the big green trashcan on South Unit B of Merrie Meadows. That is, until Ezekiel appeared in Uncle Fred’s room.
A tall, kind-hearted practical nurse, Ezekiel was trailed by several other homesick West Indian staff members. “Did I hear someone say rum cake? From the Cayman Islands?” The aides were practically awash in tears of joy.
And so this true story has a happy ending, at least for some of the characters.
As to the young lovers, Emily is beginning to wonder about Brian.
“I examined the bracelet he gave me,” she said. “The beads are strung on elastic. I didn’t want to say anything, but I wondered if he got it at the Fresh Air Boutique, you know, that exclusive little shop out by the curb. I know the guy is just starting out, and we hope someday he’ll be able to hold up his head in a real store, but I’m just wondering if he’s one of those natural-born cheapskates.”
But then, getting your mom to make desperation cookies because you’re out with your friends and won’t get home in time to bake them yourself isn’t exactly a textbook example of generosity. Not to mention scrounging the gift wrap.
Perhaps these two are really star-crossed lovers and they will scrounge, re-gift and recycle happily ever after.
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