I bought my father a truck six weeks before his sixtieth birthday, and even as I did it, I knew it was a mistake.

Not because he wouldn’t use it. He adored trucks the way some men cling to power tools and public approval—loudly, specifically, and with unsolicited opinions. But because in my family, gifts were never just gifts. They were evaluations. Evidence. Benchmarks. If you gave too little, you were selfish. If you gave too much, you were showing off. And if you gave exactly what someone wanted, they’d still find a way to make you regret understanding them that well.