When my e-mail in-box became filled with ads from every merchant from whom I’ve ever purchased anything, offering
steep discounts and free shipping, I knew that the holiday shopping
season had arrived. Every news outlet was talking about Black Friday. I
understand the day after Thanksgiving is when retailers are supposed to
“go into the black,” but as a history buff, I can’t help but think of
the original Black Friday on October 25, 1929, when the stock market
crashed, leading to the Great Depression. This year, I decided to stay
in bed.
The news footage of the crowds that camped out in front of big box
stores and rushed the entrances at dawn was enough to discourage me.
Police were called to restore order at a local Toys R Us when a crush
of people caused one shopper to wave a taser and threaten those around
her. Voices could be heard saying, “Don’t tase me, Ho, Ho, Ho!” People
wait all year for these “doorbuster specials.” They get the family
involved and plot out strategies and logistics. If not for the
early-bird sales, many could not afford these gifts. But for me,
fighting a frenzied mob for an electric, Japanese hamster at 5 a.m.
sounds only slightly less appealing than dipping my face in the
deep-fryer at Wendy’s.
Then comes “Cyber Monday,” a recent creation designed to encourage
online shoppers to begin early so they don’t end up at “Glitch
Thursday,” when the retailer screws up your order, it doesn’t arrive in
time for Christmas, and you end up giving your loved one a catalog
photo of the gift they were supposed to get.
Speaking of “holidays,” I would expect the opening volley of the
annual “War on Christmas,” sponsored by Fox News, to be fired any day.
Usually, Bill O’Reilly kicks things off about a conflict over a
crèche at a post office somewhere, or some such symbolic thing.
I heard a woman say last season that if a merchant wished her “Happy
Holidays,” instead of “Merry Christmas,” she would void her sale and
take her business elsewhere. I don’t suppose a delicatessen was on her
list of shops, but isn’t that attitude a bit like the Taliban? Since my
neighbors think I’m strange anyway, I was thinking of erecting a large,
inflatable Ganesha, the Hindu Elephant God, in the front yard. I mean,
anybody can blow up a Walgreens Frosty the Snowman, but Ganesha is the
“remover of obstacles.”
I heard that my rabbi doesn’t approve of Jews having Christmas
trees, but we’re getting by on a technicality, since our tree isn’t
even real and folds up in the attic the rest of the year. Since we’re a
bi-tradition home, I always get out the acrylic, electric Chanukah
menorah, where, on each of the eight nights, you switch on another
pastel-colored bulb. I am, after all, a Reform Jew.
I wish I could get more exited about Hanukkah, but it’s a minor
holiday commemorating a military victory in the 2nd century BC. As a
child, it paled against the festiveness of Christmas. While our
Christian friends were given bicycles and ponies, we were getting mesh
bags of chocolate coins to celebrate the miracle of one day’s worth of
Temple oil lasting for eight nights. As far as miracles go, I thought
the “Let there be light” one was far more impressive. If it were a
holiday of great significance, you would think that after 2,000 years,
they could agree on how to spell it. Hanukkah was, however, the world’s
first holiday that celebrated energy conservation.
I saw one catalog selling the ultimate in mixed-faith metaphors: the
Chanukah spinning top, called a “dreidel,” with pictures of Santa on
the sides. Could this be a sneaky attempt at conversion or another
Obamanite plot of world-wide ecumenicism?
I know I’ll radiate a more seasonal glow as the time draws nigh,
then on Christmas Day I can erupt in good cheer like an overstuffed
pinata. The family will gleefully unwrap its presents and hunker down
for Blue Tuesday, when everybody exchanges everything they received for
store credits and gift cards. When all the caroling stops, no one wants
to miss an after-Christmas bargain. Until then, the traffic is
impossible, the crowds are surly and pushy, and I’m having a difficult
time adjusting to life in a world without Ed McMahon. Ask not for whom
the jingle bell tolls, especially if you’re Dick Clark. “Hey-o!”
By the way, is it all right to say “Happy Holidays” if you’re
referring to Lincoln’s birthday, Valentine’s Day, and Passover?
Finally, why do people pray on Good Friday but shop on Black Friday?
It’s not a riddle. I’m just asking. Now get out there and help heal
this sick economy by joining our new, grass-roots, holiday initiative:
“No electric gerbil left behind.”