Well, you know, growing up in the Philippines, we never really got a lot of Christmas presents. You were lucky to get one gift. Unless of course, you were very rich, which we were not. And of course, we were taught that it was better to give than to receive and all that good stuff.
You didn't really expect to get a ton of presents on Christmas morning. We certainly didn't feel entitled to be writing to Santa with our demands. My cousins and friends and I mostly just enjoyed being out of school and singing carols and seeing decorations and stuff.
Well, on my first December in America, somebody gave me a present. Only I don't remember who it came from. It may have been from some aunt or my mom's co-worker or something.
At the same time, I had told my mom that our sixth grade class was planning on a gift exchange, also known as Secret Santa or Kris Kringle. As a fresh-off-the-boat immigrant, I had no idea what to get an American boy for a present. And then days later my mom comes home with that gift for me.
So I thought, you know, I don't really want anything, so why don't I just give this gift for Secret Santa? Problem solved. It made perfect sense to my 12-year-old mind.
I didn't think anything wrong with re-gifting either. The gift was still new. I certainly didn't use it. I re-wrapped it and brought it to school on the last day before Christmas Break.
I had done gift exchanges with my classmates in the Philippines, but those were pretty much token gifts. Generally, it would be some kind of candy or something, maybe a pen or some kind of school supply. And it was always conducted by us kids amongst ourselves and done after class. So I knew this time it would be different with it being kind of formal with everyone at their desks and everything.
I don't remember what I myself got as a present. I was busy opening it, or examining it, or talking about it to somebody when suddenly someone in class exclaimed aloud. It was my Secret Santa.
"Underwear???!!!!!"
It got everybody's attention. The whole class couldn't believe it. I did not expect that reaction. In fact, I didn't expect any reaction.
Suddenly some kids were snickering and wanting to see the pack of briefs. And I was being questioned about what I could possibly have been thinking. And then there were jokes that I may have been sexually attracted to the guy. That kind of stuff.
I just shrugged and laughed it off. I didn't really think too much about it after. I told my mom, and we laughed about it. Even today, I started writing this because I of course thought it was funny.
But now I'm kind of wondering, how my life could actually be totally different had that not happened. I wonder if any potential friendships may have been forestalled because of this incident. I can think back to some of the boys who were not close to me after that winter, but that could all be coincidental. If I did become friends with them, of course, I would inevitably be a different person. And of course, some girl could have been less inclined to talk to me after that, and I could have had my first kiss and first other things way, way sooner.
But anyways, it happened and I don't really regret it. It's just funny how writing about memories brings up so many other thoughts.
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