For the first 10 years of my marriage, my mother-in-law gave me pajama pants for Christmas. She was a self-avowed horrible gift-giver and upon gracing me with the sleepwear, would announce, “Yeah, it’s another pair of pajamas. Just switch them out and keep quiet.”
The pajama pants were generally good quality, usually flannel, with some sort of plaid or seasonal pattern on them. It’s not that I hated the way they looked or felt, they were simply something I was never inclined to wear.
Historically, I have avoided pajama pants, especially in bed as I tend to sleep hot. Instead, I always gravitated toward name-brand sweatpants from Nike or Adidas (which are roughly the same thing – albeit a bit more stylish).
I wasn’t alone in my disapproval of the pajamas; she gifted the same item to her other son-in-law, who had the same reaction as me.
Finally, prior to one Christmas, I pulled her aside and gently explained that, as much as I appreciated her thoughtfulness, I felt her money would be better spent if she gifted me a book. And if a book seemed like too much trouble, a gift card to Amazon.com would be just as good.
The idea of switching didn’t sit well with her because she’s a woman who likes consistency, but she finally relented and agreed that going forward she would only purchase books.
I was thrilled for two reasons: because I no longer had to feel bad about bringing brand-new pajama pants to Goodwill and because I love to read. It was a win-win situation. When my brother-in-law got word that the sleepwear gifting was over, he showered me with praise for initiating the change.
Unfortunately, this started a decade-long struggle of pretending that I was thrilled with the book she chose for me. She never opted for an Amazon gift card and instead would visit a big box bookstore like Barnes & Noble and then raid the discount rack. This meant that I would either receive a fiction title that never caught on or a dated biography of a historical figure that I had little interest in.
Out of respect, I would always start reading whatever book she gave me, but more often than not, I’d bail within the first 50 pages out of disinterest. The book then would sit on our coffee table until I was confident that she had forgotten about giving it to me.
This year prior to Christmas, I pulled my wife aside and begged her to lean on her mother to buy me the new Elon Musk biography by Walter Isaacson. I’ve been listening to podcasts and speeches from Elon for years and was wildly intrigued by what he was involved with. I thought for sure that she would appease me.
When Christmas morning arrived, my mother-in-law handed me a wrapped package resembling a book. I tore it open with excitement and discovered a health manual on how to live until 100. I feigned interest and flipped through the pages, then subtly turned toward my wife who gave me an apathetic smile.
My wife then got up and walked over to the Christmas tree, grabbed another similar-sized gift, and brought it to me. I opened it to find Elon’s biography, then looked up at her and laughed.
I just finished reading the book, which was both intriguing and mesmerizing. Elon Musk is a wildly interesting human whose life story reads like something out of a 10-part docudrama. He’s a polarizing figure who doesn’t suffer fools (or laziness), but he’s also making strides in multiple disciplines that cannot be ignored or understated.
I walked away from reading Elon’s biowith a sincere admiration for the man and his ambitions and a deep respect for his commitment to seeing mankind survive as a multi-planetary species. But I also learned that with an ego as large as his, immense drama will always follow.
Ego was the main talking point on Jan. 28, 1985, when musical recording artists from across the U.S. came together to record “We Are the World,” the chart-topping charity single created to help combat African famine.
This week’s feature is, “The Greatest Night in Pop,” a documentary about the genesis of one of the greatest selling singles in the history of music. With footage of the actual event and interviews with many of the main players, “The Greatest Night in Pop” delivers a behind-the-scenes glimpse at a rare moment in time.
Check this one out if you remember “We Are the World” and the impact it had on pop culture in 1985.
Those who weren’t around or don’t remember may not be as entertained, but anyone who remembers the event will be transfixed with the nostalgia.
A melancholic “B-” for “The Greatest Night in Pop,” now available to stream on Netflix.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at moviediary@att.net.
