It’s the Thought that Counts

On February 11, 1990, I got hitched. Before we knew it, we had three beautiful boys. Two of our sons are now married to incredible women and have given us three beautiful grandchildren. Our third son is getting married to a remarkable girl next year. We love them all.

We threw in a nice chunk of dough for each wedding. I’m told if I protest the amounts, everyone will hate me. They’re already looking for reasons, so why should I give it to them on a silver platter? I asked my wife not to tell me exactly how much we are spending and told her to fork it over. I might still be single if I knew how much getting married would cost me. 

The rabbis tell you that you’ve given enough money when it hurts. If you pass my house, there is a good chance you might hear me yelling, “Uncle!”

My wonderful wife is very prudent about what she buys for herself. She’s not frugal; she is cost-conscious. I’ve often offered to buy her jewelry because I know she’ll say no. Then one day, by mistake, we were strolling on 47th Street in the heart of New York’s Diamond District. Walking your wife in a diamond district is like walking a man who’s had a few too many into the red-light district in Amsterdam. You’ll always see something you think you need.

She saw a sapphire ring and a diamond Jewish star on a gold chain. We bought both. After the purchase, she bought me a giant hot pretzel from a stand on Sixth Avenue.  

After that trip, I only take her to neighborhoods where most stores are boarded up, except for 7-Eleven, where you can still get three bananas for a dollar. But when it comes to our kids and grandkids, God bless, money is no object to her. 

Is it just me, or does it seem that every day, some family member has a birthday, bar mitzvah, a new tooth breaking through or a wedding anniversary? Once, while in the deepest possible sleep, Stage 3 of non-REM (NREM), she got me to agree to pay for a family vacation on our dime.  On the trip, our kids had their two legal nannies with them, my wife and me.  As soon as we arrived, they dumped the kids with us and headed off to a Chablis tasting tour with a $200 restaurant gift card we supplied them with. 

Thanks to us and their other grandparents, our grandkids have more toys than FAO Schwarz and more clothes than Bloomingdale’s. My mother always said, “Spend before you spend it on doctors.” Well, I’m now at an age where I must spend it on doctors, and I’ve already spent it.  “You can’t take it with you” is quickly coming true. 

On my last birthday, as I edged closer to my eventual demise, my three boys and their significant others chipped in and gave me a $60.00 massage card. That’s six working adults chipping in $10 each for someone they claim to love. After handing the masseuse the gift card, she told me I still owed her $85.00 plus tip and five dollars for using a credit card. As I reached for my wallet, my neck and back tensed back up. 

Many of the gifts they give us are well-meaning, but we have little use for them. So, before they come by, we go to the closet, where we keep all their gifts tagged with their names on them. Then we put them back out before they come over. When they leave, those gifts and whatever new ones are tagged and returned to the gift closet. 

It’s also essential to rearrange the photos of them and their kids, because if, God forbid, they see that they were somehow relegated to the back row behind another family member, all hell can break loose.   

Dear children, We are now at an age where we have almost everything we need — please no more salad spoons. The window is closing, and we are quickly running out of the most irreplaceable commodity of all: TIME. So, know this. It’s not about money. For us, just being with you is our greatest, most precious gift.

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”