It seems that every year the stores open earlier to kick off the holiday shopping season. This year one store opened at midnight, several at 4:00 AM most at 6:00 or 7:00 AM. Do people really get up at 3:00 AM in order to make it to the 4:00 AM "Doorbuster" sales to buy a Lava Lamp for $6.99? I wouldn't believe it except for the fact that I live near one of the biggest malls in the Silicon Valley. The freeway off-ramp and the main drag to the mall are lined with cars full of happy shoppers just trying to get in to the parking structure. These roads are usually backed up on days other than Black Friday (there's a Macy's there, hence the name the Macy's Parade my wife and I have given the area) but today, it's insane. When did shopping become a past time? To me, shopping is something I do when I need something, not something I do to pass the day. It appears to me that people participating in these events are not particularly enjoying themselves. It looks more like a chore. Forget about the argument of "The True Meaning of Christmas". It's not about Christmas anymore. It's about stuff. Stuff we think we and other people need. When did buying a new $60,000 Lexus for your wife become something that has anything to do with Christmas or love for that matter? Do we really feel better about ourselves or feel more loved by our friends or family when they buy something for us? Are these the things we remember fondly about Christmas as we get older, or are we just victims of really sharp marketing people that have convinced us that we don't really love others unless we buy them the items they are marketing? My best memories of Christmas are the barrels of cookies my mother would bake and hide so that we wouldn't find them. Of course we would since you can't really hide barrels of cookies. Or my father going out into the woods to find the ugliest tree possible and the big blue tin box full of ornaments coming out of storage with the same decorations we'd used for years. My mother would cook an unbelievable meal and the house would smell wonderful. Friends and family would get together and my father would play mandolin and Charley Norman would accompany him on guitar. That stuff has meaning.
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