Notes from Maine - 2024/12/15

I went to a Yankee Swap last night. I went, saw a bunch of friends, probably contracted whatever illness that the young people were sneezing around, and then came home. This morning, when I sat down to have coffee and remember the evening, I stumbled into a stunning truth that shook my world to its core.

Before I get into that, let met tell you about the party. There were seventeen people involved in the “swap,” although I think a few more attended without participating. This party always features a chocolate fountain and a bunch of pot luck dishes. The fountain has only “exploded” twice over the years. A piece of fruit (or a child’s tongue) will upset the mechanism and liquid chocolate will be sprayed over walls and furniture. There’s usually an empty chair near the fountain. 

Sweets are positioned right next to savory snacks. I like to have a few crackers and maybe dip vegetables in onion dip and then challenge my palate with a cookie or piece of pound cake. It’s like dinner except it’s about four times the number of calories of most dinners without being filling at all. Most people gathered in the family room, but a few were spread around in the living/dining room. I wandered between groups engaging in more small talk than catching up. People typically sigh and get a glassy-eyed look when you ask about their family or career. By the time I wander up, they’ve repeated themselves several times and their story is beginning to fray around the edges. Instead of putting them through that, I like to walk up and ask something that they’ve potentially never considered.

“Why do you think more people don’t play ‘leg’ guitar during air guitar competitions?” I recently asked a friend.

“Sorry?”

“It’s that thing, where you put your leg out straight across your body, balance on the other leg, and then grab your ankle with the opposite hand? You strum against the outside of your thigh with big windmill motions like Pete Townshend?” 

There’s no real answer to the question, but it starts a dialog. I like to pocket little conversation starters like that in case of emergency. 

Before the gift exchange begins, there’s a review of the rules. Everyone chooses a number from a hat. When your number comes up, you can either pick a wrapped gift from under the tree or you can steal a gift that someone else has already opened. If your gift is stolen, you’re given the opportunity to open a fresh one, or steal another. Gifts can only be exchanged once per “round,” so you can’t just take back the present taken from you. Regionally, this game is also known as “White Elephant” or “Dirty Santa.” At this party, you have to abide by the three C’s. There’s no Consumption, Collusion, or Concealment. 

Consumption: If you unwrap a bottle of booze, you’re not allowed to taste it until the swapping is done. 

Collusion: If you’re attending the party with a confidant, you can’t secure a gift by trading it between each other to lock it in.

Concealment: When someone’s number comes up and it’s their turn to pick from under the tree or take someone else’s gift, all gifts need to be front and center so everyone knows what’s on the table.

I ended up with a “MASSAGE GUN.” It’s small, but it’s very strong. I don’t know how much use I will get out of something like that, but you never know. My sister suggested that I bring a LEGO Poinsettia, so I did. The set is listed as 18+, so I wrote, “Warning: this is for 18+” on the outside of the wrapping. It didn’t work. A 16 year old opened it and then it traded hands exclusively amongst the teenagers round after round. I guess reading comprehension isn’t valued anymore. Based on the look of the MASSAGE GUN you might guess that it should have been labeled 18+, but it wasn’t. 

I mentioned above that my world was shaken to its core (no, it wasn’t the MASSAGE GUN that shook me). When I sat down to research the different types of swap (White Elephant, Yankee Swap, Dirty Santa), I discovered that our annual Yankee Swap is not technically a Yankee Swap. In a White Elephant, you choose to unwrap or steal. In a Yankee Swap, you unwrap first, and then decide if you want to swap it for another gift. This group is so enamored with rules that they have been codified and alliterated over the years, but the core concept has been wrong the whole time. I can’t wait to inform the host.

I’m already sniffling and remembering all the half-concealed sneezes I witnessed in the direction of the chocolate fountain. Whatever disease I contract is going to have to be massaged away. The MASSAGE GUN is now fully charged and ready for the day.