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I don’t have much stuff, but I have enough. Most of my things have meaning. Like the pink silk piano shawl my great-grandmother draped over her baby grand in the 30s. Or the elephant bookend my dad made in metal shop in high school (my brother has the other one). Then there are the things I picked up here and there, usually in thrift stores. Things that appealed to me because they added a touch of humor or beauty to my world: a vintage plate in the shape of a cow, a yellow lampshade covered with beads. Of course, like everybody, I have things I need (or, more accurately, things I’d rather not go without), like a coffeemaker (which I make my tea in). The whole teapot thing is such a pain in the ass.

At this point in my life, I know what I need and want. I don’t want anybody to give me any more stuff. Furthermore, from now on, I’m applying the Golden Rule to my future gift giving; I’m not giving anybody else stuff either. Except kids.

I’ve come up with an alternative. Starting this year in December, the most stuff-giving time of the year, I’m going to donate money to environmental organizations in the names of my closest friends and family (the kids too). I’ll probably donate about what I’d ordinarily spend on gifts. No wrapping paper, ribbons, or tape wasted. No packages flown and driven around the world in polluting vehicles.

I’m really looking forward to this project. I’ll tailor my gifts to the person in whose name I’m making the donation. I’ll look for an organization that is working to preserve the Tasmanian forest for Ann, who grew up in Australia. One that is trying to save coral reefs for my brother, who spent half his boyhood in Guam and Hawaii.

If my friends were to continue to make donations to the organizations on their own after this year, maybe even increasing their contributions and, in turn, to use this strategy to encourage activism among the people they care about, imagine what we could achieve! (Actually, it’s more a question of math than imagination, so I have only the most general idea of what I’m talking about. But some of you can do math, so you know what I’m trying to say. I just get sleepy when I start thinking about numbers.) So if I donate $10 each in the names of 25 people, and each of them do the same, and so on (eyelids getting heavy…), you can see how, in the best of all possible worlds, we could make a difference.

It’s the perfect gift. When you make your donations, you’re giving your children a healthier planet. At the same time, you’re teaching them by example about responsibility and what’s really important. When you let loved ones know you’ve made donations in their names, and suggest they do the same for you, you’re giving them a gentle nudge in the right direction. If you can encourage them to then nudge others, you have done something meaningful. Can a sweater, a mixer, or a DVD do all that? Can socks? Power tools?

Our (American) society is known and generally scorned for its conspicuous consumption. Holiday gift-buying is a clearly defined consumer activity that can be measured and scrutinized. All kinds of conclusions about our society and economy are drawn from holiday sales figures, you know. If you examine your own gift-giving habits, you might find that they reflect your attitudes and assumptions about the importance of stuff in general.

Try this experiment. Think of it as an opportunity to examine these attitudes and assumptions and maybe make some changes. Use it as a starting point for living leaner and encouraging others to do so too.

Take responsibility. Share the burden. Spread the word. Be an example.

If you must: Recycled xmas wrapping paper and tags

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