Black Friday. Pffft.

Other than maybe cutting a Christmas tree at a local farm, I'll spend nothing today, and very little tomorrow

I think my husband and I are the hardest people to buy for, ever. It’s not that we have ultra-specific tastes, but if we need something, we buy it. Come the holidays, well, what are you going to get us other than yet another joke gift? (Ask me about the Perry Mason — BIG FAN! — t-shirt I bought him one year, which I have yet to see on him or even folded in a drawer somewhere.)

One year, I asked that we exchange only gifts we’d made ourselves. I painted an oil depiction of an ocean wave, and wrote a poem around the edges. He bought a beautiful jewelry box (that someone else had made, he insisted).

So, anyway…

I love the tree and the lights and the baking and the gatherings but the commercial part blows right past me. Maybe this is like that vestigial thumb left over from my fundamentalist childhood, when my church supported celebrating every Sunday but nothing else. We had a tree but it came down Christmas afternoon. We bought gifts, but weirdly, we celebrated only the secular part of the holiday, and that left out the utter magic of the holiday. Yes, yes, a magic baby may be beyond the ken of the reasonable, but I embrace the possibilities.

People who celebrate are free to pick and choose how and what they celebrate. I know people who include in their holiday celebrations staying up all Thanksgiving night so they can shop in the wee hours and participate in the weird (and international) rite known as Black Friday.

One year, while I was still a full-time journalist, I was assigned to cover Black Friday, which meant staying up late and then going to a local outlet. I have to admit it was festive, and people seemed happy. Most of them also acknowledged how weird it was that they do this.

I filed my story, and vowed to continue sitting this one out. Yes, there legitimate are deals to be had, and yes, the shoppers seemed excited but I’m already thinking this year of cutting away back on my already-paltry Christmas spending. I’m not The Grinch. I’m just not the shopper, either. This year more than ever, I’d like to direct my money somewhere worthwhile. The kids will be feted. The adults may not need my little offerings. Besides: