I’m always borrowing things from friends. What do I offer? Gratitude. And lines from ‘Hamlet.’

In this season of gratitude, I want to give thanks to the people who own stuff. 

With the exception of my egregiously large book collection, I am a minimalist. I don’t own much seasonal décor or fancy dishware. I don’t craft, so there is no fabric stash or extra yarn.

I lean heavily on friends, however, for all kinds of things. I feel like I am either in two states: borrowing something from a friend or returning something that I borrowed. 

I made a quick tally of all the loans made to me in just the month of October. For instance, I borrowed a pressure washer from a friend who loaned theirs after mine got snatched from the back of my car. (If you see a rogue pressure washer floating around Eugene, please let me know.) 

I borrowed Day of the Dead decorations from several friends for a youth dance at church. These women always come in clutch in the decorating department: battery-powered candles, gauze, twinkle lights, vases, pedestals and giant swaths of fabric. They are each a walking Hobby Lobby.

I borrowed speakers, lights and subwoofers for two other friends who then spent hours training the DJ (who happened to be my son) on the equipment. 

I borrowed the book “Yesteryear” from another friend because I was number 527 on the waiting list at the library, and I wasn’t ready to buy it. (I did end up buying it, after I read it.)

You get the picture. To me, this is the beauty of community. In a world where we can order almost anything from Amazon or Target, I like to remind myself that I personally don’t need to own all the stuff. 

It’s also a reminder that I don’t need to have all the skills. I rely on the strengths of others to help me troubleshoot my way through life. 

There are the artistic friends who weighed in on what color I should paint my house. (The verdict: Keep it pink.)  

The friends in the medical field who give advice on local doctors, medications or that strange rash creeping up my arm. 

My food friends always have the right serving dishes, those great drink dispensers for backyard gatherings and the best recipes for special occasions. The green thumbs in my circle grow vast gardens and let me reap the benefits.  

And of course, everyone needs those friends who can fix anything. My husband and I know our way around sentences, but don’t let us anywhere near a drill. That’s what our handy friends are for. They’ve brought over chainsaws to remove 20-foot trees. They’ve helped us repair fences, haul rock and mulch, eradicate yellow jacket infestations and kill stumps.  

“But Tiffany,” you ask, “what is your contribution in all of this?”

I’m glad you asked, because the answer is: nothing. 

I have no skills. 

OK, that’s not entirely true. I am great at giving book recommendations. I know that doesn’t count for much, but in an apocalypse I could quote vast passages from “Anna Karenina” and “Hamlet.” (“I am thy father’s spirit, doomed for a certain term to walk the night … etc., etc.”) And if you want to borrow “Yesteryear,” I have a copy.

My friends know to come to me in the fall when their children are applying for college, because I love helping kids with their application essays. It’s my teeny, tiny way of giving back to all the artists, crafters, handypersons, gardeners and musicians who shower me with their talents. 

Is it a fair trade?

It is not. 

But if a person can give gratitude, that is what I offer, again and again. 

It turns out that you can’t buy that from Amazon, either.