I didn't give gifts this Christmas. Hick said he didn't need anything. The boys are grown. The Pony will get a few items for Pony House when he moves in. With Genius living in Pittsburgh, it's a hassle to send gifts. Last year they didn't all arrive on time. This year, with Genius only coming for a one-day visit, we didn't have the time to open gifts, and force him to load them up and drive them across the country. So we gave cash.
Seriously. Who WOULDN'T like a gift of cash? One size fits all. You can customize it for what you want. Besides, we were taking a gambling trip to our local casino. You can't feel guilty losing money that hasn't been earned by the sweat of your brow.
Well. Who knew that giving Genius cash would be such a hardship? Not this old Val!
As we were parting ways at the casino, Genius and Friend having followed us down so they could take the highway back, and not meander down our two-lane curvy blacktop to retrieve Genius's Honda CRV... Genius had a request.
"Mom. Do you think you could write me a check? For this money that I didn't gamble?"
"Oh! I don't bring the checkbook when we come to the casino. It's home in my other purse."
"Okay. There's no hurry. It's just that neither one of us has a physical bank. We only do online banking. I don't know what to do with this cash." He looked at Friend. "I guess maybe you could spend it when you buy the groceries..."
"I can write you a check and send it in your letter. I can send it tomorrow."
"That would be good. Like I said, there's no hurry. But we don't carry cash."
"Yeah. We didn't even have a coin to scratch the lottery tickets my parents gave us for Christmas," said Friend. "My grandpa had to toss us a quarter! I think I still have it. We'll have to share it to scratch the tickets YOU gave us!"
Heh, heh. You'd think I had given Genius a suckling pig that Friend would have to take to market under his arm, squealing all the way, to trade for a slab of fatback and an earthenware jug of whiskey!
At least The Pony will spend cash on a snack at Casey's when he darts in for a bathroom break during work. I know that, because he always uses a twenty, and the living room coffee table is covered with tens and fives and ones from his pocket at the end of the day.
I can't believe this generation is so anti-cash! But at least they can still read cursive! They were a couple years before that stopped being taught in elementary school.