Maybe you’ve heard this one: There’s only one fruitcake in the world, it just keeps getting passed around (and if you’ve ever given it away, odds are good you’ll get it back one day).

The term regifting entered the pop culture lexicon in a 1995 episode of “Seinfeld.” Not that the practice was new, just that it was brought out of the closet and given a name. So far out of the closet, in fact, that now there’s a National Regifting Day (December 18th), and a what-have-things-come-to UPS regifting web site, www.UPSregifter.com, where you can “Receive. Reject. Regift.” They even give you the option to regift via Facebook.

There’s also a web site called regiftable.com, where people confess their regifting sins. There’s single regifting, like the man who regave his sister two (very stale) cartons of cigarettes — her Christmas gift to him the previous year when he was trying to quit. Or the thrifty penman who “recycles” holiday greeting cards with the inscription, “Life is tough, times are hard, here’s your last year’s Christmas card.”

One man worries whether he’s regifting by giving his daughter away at her second wedding. Or maybe that’s an example of repeat giving. Like the family who has passed around the same peanut butter maker for 30 years. Or the family who has been passing along a can of black olives for generations, the now-antique label autographed by every recipient. Or the brothers who swap a Christmas lump of coal to bust each other’s naughty-not-nice exploits.

Speaking of busts, here’s an extended-play example of what I call reciprocal regifting: a repeated exchange of one (usually oddball) object between the same two people. It’s the story of two Navy men who went to great lengths — and heights — to carry out a 20-year swap-a-thon on the seas, in the skies, and in the halls of power.

In 1972, Navy Commander Anthony Sesow was heading home from aircraft carrier patrol in the Mediterranean, with a stopover planned in Italy. Just before departing the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt, Sesow was approached by his commanding officer, Rear Admiral Donald Engen, with the request: “Bring me back the nicest piece of Italian sculpture you can find.”
Thus, in a Naples souvenir store, Sesow purchased a reptilian, repulsivo bust of Benito Mussolini. “I knew it was the last thing the Admiral would ever want,” he laughs.

Their next meeting was stateside, where Sesow presented the bust to the Admiral with immense dignity — unaware that he was initiating a string of 15 more such events. And each exchange of the eyesore would involved ever more elaborate plans, creative delivery systems (such as the diplomatic pouch), and third-party accomplices.

Benito later made his way back into Sesow’s hands on another aircraft carrier in the North Atlantic. Leaving the Carrier Division for a post in Washington, D.C., Sesow was in his plane preparing for takeoff when Engen approached with the bust, saying, “Here. This is the nicest thing you’ve ever given me. You can have it back now.” Due to the plane’s tight quarters, Tony flew to Africa, and then on to Washington D.C., with Il Duce on his lap.

Once when Engen was in London, Sesow enlisted a pal to smuggle Mussolini into the Admiral’s workplace; Engen later returned the favor when Sesow was stationed in Germany. When Engen was headed to a meeting in Germany on the eve of his military retirement, Sesow managed to insinuate the dead dictator into the officer’s quarters, where its batrachian smirk greeted the Admiral on arrival.

Whenever in the same time zone, “We’d have lunch periodically and make a big show of presenting it back and forth,” Tony recalls. Engen went on to a prestigious post as Director of the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C. And of course, Benito surfaced unexpectedly on his desk, where he displayed it proudly — prompting a visiting Prince Charles to gasp, “What the devil are you doing with that thing?”

Sesow’s favorite episode on the receiving end was the Christmas he unwrapped the hot potentate from a giant box under the tree. To this day, he has no idea how it got there. And he’ll never know, because the Admiral isn’t with us anymore. And the bust? Decommissioned to the back of Sesow’s closet. He knows, try as he might, he can’t give it away.

Written by: Alice Van Housen

Photograph by: Ron Garrison