i am not the grinch

I do not do Christmas.

For me, Christmas is just a warning that another year is almost done. And it is a great time to relax without worrying about decorations, attending parties, and shopping for gifts.

Our family stopped buying gifts for one another years ago on the theory that each of us knows what we want, and we usually buy it for ourselves when we see it. It has worked for all of us. 

The only exception is Mom. She always buys each of us several gifts from whatever inspires her on her Costco trips. I am not certain what she will do this year since she has not been able to get to her second-favorite shopping establishment (Fred Meyer being her first) in months. I guess I will find out when I arrive in Bend on 27 December.

Let's just say that I am no longer a player in the gift-giving game. Or, at least, I thought that was true.

This morning, Antonio stopped by to tend my pool. He often brings his young son Enrique with him because the schools here have been shut down for in-person instruction -- a shutdown that has already negatively impacted Mexico's students, as it has elsewhere.

Enrique was shy with me when he first came with Antonio. He would not look me directly in the eye and stayed within his dad's cocoon of protection.

But he eventually discovered that I was not one of those rumored northerners who steal children's organs, and we started chatting. He now swaggers through the door with his dad and greets me as if we were fellow-AARP members.

This morning he arrived with a plastic bag in hand and presented it to me as if I had just won an oscar for Best Actor in a Supporting Role in Mexico.

I assumed it was a Christmas card. And it was. Personalized by Enrique himself.

As much as I liked the card, I found the envelope even more amusing. 

I know Enrique knows my last name. He laughs every time I call myself by my last name translated into Spanish.

But he took a greater (and gfr more entertaining) twist with it. 

This is the envelope.

At first, I was puzzled. I know he knows my last name is Cotton. What is with "Estif de Martin?"

I may be old, and I may be slow, but a good joke seldom misses my attention. He was calling me Steve Martin, one of my favorite comedians of all time. What surprised me was that he not only knew the cross-cultural reference, but understood its impact.

This kid is on his way to the Mexican presidency. Or maybe something good will come of him, instead.

I am certain my Mom will give me something memorable to write about this Christmas. But Enrique's gesture of kindness will stick with me for the rest of the year.

I put the card in the library as the house's sole decoration for Christmas.

May you have many moments just as memorable.