Op-ed: One small gift leads to so much more

By Sharon Bondroff
©2023 Telegraph Publishing LLC

GRAY, MAINE

In the late 1970s, searching for a gift for my partner Stevens Bunker, I stopped by a small antiques shop in Ellicott City, Md.

Turns out Joe the shopkeeper, was friends with Bunker. They both loved, bought and sold old maritime stuff. Joe was a retired Navy captain. And Bunker, a Vietnam War vet, had been taken to sea at an early age by his father, a Merchant Marine.

Among the treasures in Joe’s shop was an off-white, ceramic mug without a handle. It was thick, sturdy and insulating, typically used by sailors aboard ship. I could picture Bunker’s hands wrapped around it, filled with hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night. So I handed Joe a $10 bill, thanked him and left.

Forty-some years have gone by since that day. Joe’s friendship with us continued to grow deeper. His penchant for shining every piece of brass and copper in his possession had us using his name as a verb. Instead of polishing a lamp, we would joe it. I think Joe, were he still alive, would like that.

He would also like knowing that the mug is still with us, part of our history as a couple, and part of an oddball assortment of mugs we’ve accumulated over the years, mostly given to us by family and friends.

There’s the obligatory mug with the grandkids’ photos, the pirate-themed mug made by a friend who considers Bunker to be, yes, a pirate, and the “sisterhood” mug featuring cartoon women wearing pink hats, brought up to Maine a few years back by a buddy from Florida.

For many years, Bunker and I would spend Thanksgiving with my brother and sister-in-law at their expansive home on a rise in the Maryland countryside.

Long before anyone else was awake, I’d head to the kitchen and open the cabinet holding my sister-in-law’s collection of mugs. Before grabbing a simple white one for myself, I pulled hers off the shelf and placed it on the counter. It was double-sized, ugly and chipped. Obviously it meant something to her because it was the only one I ever saw her use. Setting out her favorite mug, and boiling water for her coffee — these were things I could do for her, as a guest in her home.

In this season of gift-giving, I’m seeing the many ways we give to one another that we barely notice or, for that matter, understand. A simple stop at a shop to find a Christmas gift led to a deeper friendship over the years and, like so much else, affected the course of our lives. One year, in return for my sister-in-law’s opening her home and heart to me, I bought her a double-sized ceramic mug in perfect shape. I can’t tell you if it was the right thing to do, or if she ever used it.

Three-dimensional gifts — whether a mug, a rug, a toy or a tie — are only the surface, perhaps a symbol of our love or appreciation for another being.

I suspect the real giving extends beyond the wrapping paper and into the world in which we live, which is, all at once, familiar and mysterious. The aftereffects keep resonating. As the Maxwell House coffee ad used to say, “Good to the Last Drop.”

Sharon Bondroff  is a freelance writer who says the best gift is celebrating the holidays with her nearly 4-year-old grandson. She lives in Gray, Maine, with her husband Stevens Bunker.