By Jack Houvouras
HQ 132 | Winter 2026
‘Tis the season for gift giving, and I can’t help but think back to holidays past. In our family, the Christmas morning tradition included waking up at sunrise, walking directly to our parents’ bedroom without peeking into the living room and waiting for Dad to crawl out of bed to make sure Santa was gone. After stalling a bit to torture us, the old man would turn on the Christmas tree lights and tell us the coast was clear. Then, a mad dash to the living room would ensue.
I was always happy and satisfied with the gifts I received. I remember one particular Christmas when my mom bought me my dream present — a top-of-the-line Lionel HO train engine which, to the best of my recollection, cost a staggering $50. I never imagined my frugal mother would lay out that much money for one gift, and I was pleasantly surprised that she did.
My, how times have changed. Today, gift giving has soared to heights I never could have imagined. For example, a friend of mine recently purchased a Mercedes SUV for his daughter’s 16th birthday. Another acquaintance bought a Rolex watch for his son’s high school graduation. I even know someone whose in-laws purchased a $700,000 house as a wedding gift for him and his wife.
Today’s younger generation enjoys an unprecedented quality of life. When I travel these days, the airports are overflowing with high school and college students traversing the globe. Many of them will have seen the Eiffel Tower, the Great Wall of China and the aurora borealis by the time they receive their diplomas.
At the risk of sounding like my parents, things were different back in my day. In high school, only a handful of students had their own cars. My first car was a Honda Accord that my father bought for me during my sophomore year in college. I had my eye on a $7,500 Honda Civic, but he determined it was too small and unsafe. “If you get in a wreck, you could die,” he said with concern, and then shelled out an additional $3,000 for the larger Accord.
For my college graduation, my parents gifted me an antique Cross fountain pen. It may not have been expensive, but it was a thoughtful choice because they knew I wanted to be a writer, and this was their way of supporting my aspirations.
In fact, the most meaningful gifts I’ve ever received weren’t extravagant — an antique typewriter found at an estate sale; a pair of second-edition, leather-bound books featuring the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson; a framed sepia-toned photo of my father in his World War II naval uniform.
The current age of entitlement reminds me how much the world has changed in the last four decades. When I started this magazine in 1989, my salary was $15,000. I was living in a garage apartment in the alley behind 13th Avenue between Sixth and Seventh Streets, and my rent was $250 a month. After receiving my first paycheck, I remember going to Mack & Dave’s to buy myself a washer and dryer. I recall thinking, “I have a car, a nice apartment near Ritter Park and a washer and dryer downstairs. What more does anyone need?”
The first office for HQ was a 300-square-foot room that housed two desks, a small table and a file cabinet. It was a humble start that only left room for growth.
I’ve often heard people say they wish they had been born with a silver spoon or inherited a great sum of money. But I dissent. Those individuals can never truly appreciate the reward and satisfaction that comes from setting goals, paying their dues and climbing each rung of the ladder on the way to success.
And, as my mom used to say, “What does a young person have to look forward to in life if everything is handed to them from the start?”
