Not 'guilty' about pleasure
23.02.12
I’m often quite strategic when putting together my Christmas list for my mother.
I always try to select a few serious items that she’ll be happy to buy for me, because of how reasonable and necessary they seem and because she knows I’m unlikely to buy them for myself. For instance, this year I asked for a new sleeping bag, to replace my old, tattered sleeping bag with the broken zipper.
I also like to pick out a few CDs for my parents to buy, and I consider Christmas a good time to get classic albums I wouldn’t ordinarily rush out to buy, but should probably have in my CD collection. My theory is that my parents are more likely to buy CDs by people they’ve heard of than CDs by alternative rock bands with strange and often unwholesome names, and in past years I’ve requested “Pet Sounds” by The Beach Boys, Johnny Cash’s “At Folsom Prison” and Rachmaninoff’s “Piano Concert No. 3.” These are great works, and I’m happy to own them.
This year, though, I was a little embarrassed by my Christmas list CD pick.
Source: Schenectady Gazette (blog)