The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 7: Shopping

 "The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree:  the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other."                                                                                   ~Burton Hillis

AUBURN, Maine — I like Christmas shopping as much as I like having my teeth cleaned or receiving dozens of robo calls from politicians during an election year.

It's not the money. It is the time spent in a mall with a crowd of desperate people searching for that perfect give. Along the way, you become annoyed with the masses, the traffic, the winter weather and relatives. The Christmas music starts to sound like heavy metal as you look for an exit.

It's not fun. One year, I went off the deep end and yelled from my car window after spending an hour inside a crowded story on Black Friday in Portland.  I sped away screaming, "You are all nuts!"

My wife thought I needed help.

Never again!

When I find the courage to venture into a store during the holiday rush, I go in like the Marines — get in and get out! I can last an hour before suffering a mental break from a deluge of Christmas tunes and long lines at the checkout counter.

There is a thin veneer to my patience when it comes to holiday shopping.

And it's not like I go around shouting "bah humbug" in the store isles. It would attract too much attention and those guys in white suits would cart me off to the nearest funny farm.

I try to be pleasant.

Buying for my wife is easy. I don't ever, ever, ever, consider giving her a kitchen appliance for Christmas gift. Who the hell wants a blender for Christmas, and nothing says I don't love you more than brand new dishwasher.

If you go that route, you do so at your own peril. I don't want to be around when some poor bastard buys the little woman an iron.

There will be blood.

For me, clothes, books, gift cards and the occasional string of pearls are all wonderful gifts for a wife who tolerates me. I am a guy on a budget and I don't have wealth, like say, a conniving congressman or an overpaid CEO. But if I could, I would lasso the moon for Terri (See George Baile) and splurge on my son.

Clothes shopping for Terri is a cinch. She tells me the sizes and I plead for help from customer service reps who get a kick out of a husband with taste.

I need a women's touch when making delicate and important clothes purchases for my wife.

Shopping for my son is a different can of tuna. Toys are no longer a priority for him, and sometimes that breaks my heart. He is nearing adulthood, and I lost that little boy who would play with Hot Wheels for hours.

For Christmas, it will be skis, a class ring and unnamed gifts because I don't want to ruin his surprise on Christmas morning.

Gifts for me? I could care less.

When I reach for the coffee on Christmas morning and turn to see Anthony and Terri unwrapping gifts under the tree, I received everything I wanted on my holiday wish list this season. 

It's beginning to look like insanity

Our tree, outdoor lights and Anthony and Terri make three.

“The best Christmas of all is the presence of a happy family all wrapped up with one another.”

- author unknown

AUBURN, Maine — The warning signs began appearing just before Halloween.

I didn't notice the first few clues of impending mayhem as I meandered around the aisles. But there they were there, right in front of my face.I figured all that madness was still a month and a half away.

When Halloween passed, that's when all hell broke loose!

Perhaps it was in the dead of night and under the cover of darkness when retailers gave the order to remove all Halloween decorations and replace them with trinkets of good cheer.

Thanksgiving was about to take a back seat to the craziest holiday of all — Christmas.

After all, Christmas was ONLY 55 days away, and there was not a moment to lose when battering consumers with good cheer. Thanks to greed, commercialism and capitalism run amok, the most wonderful time of year has become an orgy of spending.

For nearly 60 days, blatant reminders are in your face 24-7. It always begins with a just few aisles featuring Christmas decorations before all department stores reach Defcon 5, which is a level of commercial readiness that would keep the U.S. Marines on their toes. Stores go right to work ambushing customers with deals on toys, clothes and appliances.

Thanksgiving has become the gateway holiday to the most ludicrous day of all — Black Friday — a day that usually lives in infamy. Stuffed and groggy consumers rise early and venture into the night to shove aside or mace their fellow man to muscle their way in line to buy a flat-screen TV. Christmas cheer turns into jeers as herds of shoppers wait in the cold for the doors to open. They can act like lunatics during a shopping frenzy that would make any serial killer turn around and walk out the door.

The push-and-shove conflict erupts in departments stores across the U.S. and garners nationwide TV coverage. For me, it is one of those "who gives a damn" stories that dominates the news cycle for 24 hours. And it gives network cheerleaders an excuse to report that the nation has clawed its way out of this endless depression. Of course, we all know that is not true.

But all this shopping hijinks is a pleasant distraction from a planet in peril and the bunch of fools who screwed up Congress.

I avoid all stores at all costs on this particular day. I would be a no-show even if stores were giving away their products. The last thing I want to do after stuffing my face with turkey is get up at 3 a.m. and have a throw-down with ravenous consumers in the middle of a congested mall.

Black Friday is also TV's and radio's cue to begin working over consumers with 30 days of Christmas music and specials that make me want to take my chances with the Ghost of Christmas future. I search the radio dial in vain to find a rock-and-roll song. Eric Clapton's "I feel free" works for me.

But I do not subscribe to Scrooge's warped thinking. He was one SOB before three ghosts took the old man out for walk and scared the living crap out of him.

There is a beautiful tree taking up most of my parlor and outdoor Christmas lights illuminating cold winter nights. So I won't need a visit from Jacob Marley to convince me about the importance of this holiday.

For me, Christmas is a celebration of family and an opportunity share some time with those who are still here. All the hoopla surrounding this holiday is like the trimmings on a Christmas tree. For many Americans who are unemployed or lost loved ones, this is not the most wonderful time of year. There are empty seats at the dinner table, and many of us are celebrating the holiday with a skimpy dinner that Bob Cratchit would find impossible to enjoy.

All this good cheer and hope lasts a mere 30 days, and then we all jump back into the rat race. We quickly pack away decorations and throw out the tree, acting like nothing ever happened.

But I can't help wondering why we all can't keep this frame of mind throughout the year. Why only 30 days? How about making it a full 365 for the greater good? Why does all this goodwill toward men suddenly disappear?

Dickens had it right when he wrote: "and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!"

And oh by the way — Merry Christmas.