I have mutated at last into a non-child, I guess. I no longer have a wish list of things I want. Well, I confess to the hopes for a book or three and some warm socks to wear while I’m reading. I wouldn’t turn down a box of Five Roses Tea. But what on earth do I want with more “things” to fill up my closets, get stored in my garage, burden my shelves? If I get another bathrobe or fuzzy slippers, another set of floor mats for my car or six placemats for the table, they are just going to sit in storage until I am gone. At which point my heirs will simply throw them out or give them to the Salvation Army, as a testament to rampant consumerism gone amock.

No, I’d rather people give to someone in need in my name if they wish, but preferably anonymously. I’d like to think that some small (or large) amount found its way to someone who needed it more than I, or to an organization dedicated to peace and sisterhood, truth and beauty, or the environment and the survival of the planet. Far better than giving me another knickknack to collect dust.

So instead of a Wish List, I’m going to make a Gift List for family and friends. The old lady wants contributions to education for children, jobs for the poor, health care for those without health insurance, and world peace. Too airy-fairy and vague, you say? If we don’t do it, who will? If I am not part of the solution, I am part of the problem.

All I want for Christmas is peace, prosperity and possibilities for every living thing on the planet.