Not so many months ago, most if not all of us received some gifts: Christmas gifts. How were they wrapped? In paper of red or green or gold? Wound up in shiny ribbon? Topped with satiny bows?

            How did it feel to open those gifts? Chances are, we didn’t know what was inside those boxes or gift bags. There was that moment of curiosity — pick it up ... shake it ... feel its weight. Then came the cutting of the ribbon, the tearing of the paper, the opening of the cardboard flaps. What joy, to discover how much someone loves us, loves us enough to offer a gift!

            Ask yourself this question, though. How would you have felt, if — as soon as you’d opened your gift — the giver were to have said, “Let me have that for a moment”?

            You hand it over.

            “You know, that really is a nice present. I’d like to have it for myself. I think I’ll keep it!”

            We used to have a word for that kind of person, back when I was a kid. The word was, “Indian giver.”

Origins of a slur

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