BREATHE

Q

QUICKIE BOW TYING

Skip the complicated looping and curling. Craft stylist Blake Ramsey Murray says a knot looks just as lovely. “With the tails trimmed at 45-degree angles, it can look really chic—and requires a lot less material. You don’t need any special skills to tie it. A basic knot with tails trimmed relatively short looks crisp and deliberate,” she says. “If they’re hanging over the edges of the package, they look sloppy.”

R

RUDOLPH THE RED-NOSED… CARIBOU?

It’s true:The European/Asian reindeer and theAmerican caribou, once considered different species, are now known to be the same, says reindeer biologist NicholasTyler of theArctic University of Norway.And, no, the “rein” part has nothing to do with Santa’s sleigh driving.The word reindeer comes from the Old Norse hreinin, whichmeans “horned animal.”

S

SHOW GRATITUDE

EVEN FORA GIFT YOU DON’T LIKE

“Whether or not you are ever going towear the itchy cardigan your great-aunt knittedfor you, be thankful for it— grateful people are happy people,” says Real Simple’s etiquette expert, Catherine Newman. As for expressing thanks, stick to what’s true. Not “I love it!” ifyou don’t, but “I can’t imagine how long youspent knitting this for me! I’m so lucky. Thank you.”It’s harder, maybe, with the microwave potatobaking gadget but still possible, says Newman: “You’re always thinking ofways to make my life easier. I love that so much.”

Same stockings, same cookies,same music playing as you opengifts. What’sthe psychological reasonbehindrituals? “Back when families needed community for protection, traditionsshowed allegiance,” says Joffrey Suprina, Ph.D., the dean of the College ofCounseling, Psychology and Social Sciences at Argosy University,in Sarasota, Florida. Another theory: Markers of time makethe stress of the season more bearable. “The simple observance thatwe’ve madeit once more around thecalendaroffers comfort,” says Marie Hartwell-Walker,a psychologistin Amherst, Massachusetts.

UNCLESANDAUNTS don’t

tellyou to brushyour teeth or sit up straight. Their love has few conditions.You just get the good parts. Like myAunt Madeline making ravioli just because I love them.And my Uncle Mario,who took us up in his single-engine Cessna plane,with no hands on thewheel, to our squealing delight. (My mom and the FAA still know nothing.) Then there’s my Uncle Pat.When Iwas six years old, he made me the following offer: He would take mewith my cousins to an amusement park in Queens if Iwould sleep over at their house on Long Island afterward. He had towork the next day, and itwould be too late for him to drive me home. I promisedwith all my heart that Iwas a big girl, and I could do it. So Iwent to the fair, stuffed my face with cotton candy, rode the Ferriswheel, and got this tiny toy tinwashing machinewith a crank and a spin cycle. I came crashing down aswe pulled into the driveway at 11P.M. and, breaking my promise, cried to go home.Without a fuss,without scolding me as my parents would, Pat laughed and drove me home. Years later,when Uncle Pat and myAunt Jeanwere living in Southern California and Iwas there forwork, I had lunchwith them, then drove two hours away to my hotel— leaving my cell phone behind. I called Uncle Patwith my FedEx number and asked him to send it, that I couldwait a few days.The next morning, Iwoke up to a flashing light on the hotel-room phone:You have something at the front desk.The clerk handed me my phone and said that an older gentleman had dropped it off at 5A.M. He didn’t even stay for breakfast. Twoyears ago, I called their house to say “Merry Christmas,” and my cousin Patti told me that her fatherwas too sick to knowwhat day itwas. He passed the next day.Around Christmas everyyear, I miss him terribly but am incredibly thankful for his limitless love and support. Uncle Pat once gave me a cool pair of Mad Men–era binoculars, and I often sit on the dockwith them in Marina del Rey, looking out at the boats, thinking of him, hoping to see myselfwithoutalltheconditions, thewayhesaw and loved me.

—MARGARET SEKELSKY

MARGARET SEKELSKY IS A WRITER IN MARINA DEL REY, CALIFORNIA, AND AN EXPERT ON UNCLES AND AUNTS—SHE HAS 21 OF THEM.