A GIFT FOR THE GRAD

A GIFT

for the GradHOW DO YOU MARK THE OCCASION OF MOVING ON FROM MIDDLE SCHOOL AND GROWING UP?

The answer was a Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. Those of us of a certain age will remember it well: usually red, maybe black. Pop-up headlights. Usually louder than it was fast. Undeniably cool. For its time, the epitome of the American sports car. And 13-year-old me wanted one. It didn’t matter I wouldn’t be able to drive for another three years. Or that there would never really be a budget for one (nor should be). That version of me didn’t understand those things, or care a lick. If you had asked that little adolescent twerp on the day of his eighth grade graduation what he would want if he could have anything at all, that beast of a car, sadly, would have topped the list. And that base of experience, dear reader, is why I recently found myself a bit stumped on a question: What gift do you give someone who is graduating eighth grade? The question is one that was front and center in my mind of late — because the special graduate is none other than my own firstborn daughter. As I recall, my own graduation was a rather low-key affair. A brief ceremony, for which I had to wear an ill-fitting suit (because, as an average 13-year-old male — floating between boys’ and men’s sizes — what kind of clothing isn’t ill-fitting?), followed by a short reception at home with a few close relatives. My parents did pop for a backyard party with friends a few weeks later, though. So there was that. From those celebrations, I netted a small bundle of cards, some cash and a few books, including a gigantic dictionary and some tomes offering life advice that I was sure didn’t apply to a 13-year-old entering high school. (Upon reading some of them years later, they most certainly would have applied. That’s a story for another time.) So, what do you buy for someone graduating eighth grade? The web is full of articles offering advice for giftgiving for those graduating high school and college. This is a genre of articles I’ve always found funny, because, you know, *cash.* But there is precious little on what to buy incoming freshmen. It doesn’t help that she’s my daughter, either. She already has the smartphone, which also rules out the need for a giant dictionary. Tools for high school could be useful. But just picture the puzzled, dour, slightly snarky facial expression: “Oh, thanks…” A Starbucks gift card will likely find its way to her, maybe a book, as well. But intuition says she will be receiving several of those from others. For most of my daughter’s life, buying gifts was easy, as testified by her playroom full of toys. For years, nearly everything on her list could be crossed off by a trip to Water Tower Place and the American Girl store. If that didn’t work, the Disney Store was just a quick five-minute walk down Michigan Avenue. Recently, as we start to adjust to life without anyone in the house who can’t read, my wife went through bins of those old toys, untouched for some time. A few days later, while rummaging for something unrelated in the garage, I discovered one of the bags contained the Little People zoo animal playset that we had used to help her learn the alphabet nearly a decade ago. The discovery sparked memories: sitting on the floor, having her tell me that “L” was for lion, and trying to persuade her that yes, the letter “X” was really for that creepy looking X-ray fish. It was almost enough to make me pull it out of the bag and march it back into the playroom, but that notion was checked by reality as I pondered how to answer the little ones’ questions about why I thought they still needed this toy. It led me once again to recall that, in not too many days, my oldest will be graduating eighth grade. And, while there will be a party, and a loud red sports car (thankfully) holds no interest for her, there was still the little matter of what gift to give to a special young woman who is graduating eighth grade.

 Jonathan Bilyk writes about the triumphs and travails of being a modern-day dad who legitimately enjoys time with his family, while tolerating a dog that seems to adore him. He also doesn’t really like the moniker “Superdad” because it makes it sound like he wants to wear his undergarments on the outside of his pants. (Also, the cape remains on back order.)