The Gift

We were conditioned to never expect presents.
As children raised mostly by our almost fanatic religious grandmother, presents were seen as ungodly that only elevated the self and ignited vanity which went against her Pentecostal cult-like teachings, or simply not given because we lived in poverty. Using religion to cover up or manipulate reality was my grandmother’s specialty and it worked. In hindsight, that tactic ended as soon as I began earning my own money at 13. To this day, I do not need a reason to gift myself anything; I have learned to celebrate me. Thirteen also happened to be when my grandmother gave me the best gift she ever could, a sewing machine.

When I was nine and we lived in the Dominican Republic, I remember her having many industrial sewing machines in the back of the home we lived in and wondered why. Years later when they were gone, I overheard her tell someone that her dream was to open a tailor shop, which explained the existence of the machines. She concluded her revelation with ‘the woman I was supposed to open the shop with backed out and I had to sell the machines.’
That moment stayed with me, I was a child and couldn’t understand but today I know; I couldn’t believe she too could dream or that if she did, they were important enough to see them through. Even if that person let her down, knowing the why of those sewing machines made them important to me.

Throughout the years, my grandmother wanted little for herself. She repeated that all she wanted was for us, her grandchildren to make her proud.
‘Good grades, I want good grades.’ she would say when I would ask her what she wanted for her birthday. I guess she felt living by example would influence the ‘no gift-giving’ way of life and obligate us to focus on our education. It kinda worked because when I had the chance to pave my own academic path, I did. I applied to Fashion High when I was a freshmen in another high school with the help of my then guidance counselor Ms. Rivkin and got in.

I, at 12 had to explain to my grandmother in Spanish that I was no longer a student at Long Island City High School. ‘I transferred, I auditioned and transferred. I showed them my designs and got in.’ I said to the face of a 50-something-year-old Hispanic woman that always thought she was getting conned which made me learn to be careful which words to choose when talking to her. Her face softened and her eyes widened. This was the sign I needed because it meant she was good yet her eyes narrowed which meant she was still not buying it. ‘Ok, veremo’a ver.’

Translation – ‘Ok, we’ll see’

After my first semester in Fashion, I was reaching expert levels at sewing. I began to make my own patterns, sew my own clothes and my curiosity for anything crafted in fabric was on fire as my grandmother observed in silence as I stayed later and later after school. One evening, in the fall of 1990, I walked into the living room and there it was, my own industrial sewing machine. Thinking back, it could’ve been a way to keep me from staying late in school and come home instead. Again, the manipulation was real.

Since then my almost 1-ton industrial sewing machine has followed me to all of the places I have lived in: Washington Heights on Audubon Ave, Astoria, Queens then Mosholu Parkway in the Bronx, then in Morrisania, always the Bronx, then storage for 5 years when I lived in Florence, then back to Washington Heights and lastly now in Pearl River, New York this next chapter of my life. It is a part of me.

I can’t say that my grandmother’s philosophy on gift-giving is the best, she still doesn’t give presents while many grandmothers are known for the ‘5$ slip’.
Her beliefs are hers and although it did make me value ANYTHING she gave me, in my many years of working with children believe that achievements should be celebrated and a gift, for as small as it could be represents LOVE and GENEROSITY.
Thanks to my grandmother, I also learned that to be Godly and prefer to see it that way.