Dec. 21, 2010
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Yearning for a simpler holiday season
The Family Guy Nothing screams “Christmas Spirit” like two large women wrestling at Target. And yet that was precisely what I witnessed one day last week. Wanting to avoid showing up for the final moments of Jellybean's Christmas party, I chose to roam around the various high-end cleaning supplies. I wasn't killing time as much as allowing Jellybean to climb down from a sugar high. Giving toddlers candy, whether it's under the guise of Christmas or not, is more dangerous than feeding a Mogwai after midnight. Having loaded up my red buggy with a Lindberg baby's ransom-worth of SugarPlum Fantasies, Glad Plug-Ins, and Thai Dragon Fruit Febreeze, I moseyed on over to the toy section. These are the only times when I wish I had a boy. Don't get me wrong, I'd love Jellybean whether she was a boy or a girl, had a third eye or an extra arm, but I'd like to be able to shop for toys that aren't pink, have hair “perfect for braiding,” or smell like strawberries. So whenever I'm alone, I look at the “Star Wars” stuff. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll find an Imperial Tie Fighter -- with detachable wings and laser battle sounds -- waiting under the tree for me. Just as visions of an exploding Death Star danced through my head, I heard a struggle over on the next aisle where these two gargantuan women were shoving one another over some toy called Stinky the Garbage Truck. I did what any noble citizen would do: I stood back and watched. It was obvious that this was a death match, and quiet frankly both ladies looked capable of eating me alive. Literally. The scuffle lasted for only a few seconds before the older, more agile woman snatched the toy away from the one with a hacking smoker's cough. There wasn't an apology or a moment's realization that they were acting as immature as the child for whom the gift was intended. The winner simply took off for the register while I tried to set up the video app on my phone. This magnificent mêlée belonged on YouTube. These ladies lost touch not only with reality and common decency but with the spirit of the Christmas season. And who can blame them? We're all guilty, what with all the obnoxious advertising blitzes and relentless reminders that've been counting down the “final shopping days” since Halloween. Personally, I blame Walmart. And don't get me started on those yahoos who camp out on Black Friday. Ain't nothing worth getting up a two minutes past midnight to stand in line with strangers, drinking from a Big Gulp-sized cup of coffee. I don't care if Macy's is giving away babies and diamond hair dryers, I'm staying in bed. That's why we're all over-dosed on Christmas. The Second Coming couldn't live up to this much hype. And then it's just … over. Once the presents are unwrapped, the new toys broken, the hideous sweaters returned and the Christmas tree turned into a spawning spot for bream and crappie in somebody's pond, we go back to normal like nothing happened ('til the credit card bills serve as a reminder). I, for one, am aspiring for a low-maintenance, low-stress Christmas. We aren't going nuts with gifts (being broke made this an easy resolution). We will be making a day-trip to see some family, then we'll enjoy watching the kids play and take a nap. And the good Lord willin', there will be peace on Earth, save for those ladies at Target. Brett Buckner is an award-winning former columnist for the Anniston Star. He lives in Columbus, Ga. with his wife, daughter and stepdaughter. His humor column appears regularly in The Post. Contract Brett at brett.buckner@yahoo.com. |