A few weeks ago it seemed that 2004’s Christmas season had arrived. I went for my morning coffee at Caribou–which is conveniently adjoined by a short hallway to the Qdoba I manage–and found that the Christmas marketing machine had arrived. There was festive music, staff wearing reindeer antlers, a peppermint stick mocha on the menu and customers picking up cans of “special edition” hot cocoa for gifts.
Remember now, we are talking about November 1st here.
I observed as the general manager, a jolly fellow himself, smoothly sold one woman another can of cocoa because “they are such good gifts and I just know we are going to run out and not get any more in.” Again, this was the first day these items had been in the store. Amazing.
Anyway, I comment on the Christmas season because this year it evokes both revulsion and delight in my spirit. Revulsion because I enjoy giving gifts but am amazed at how materialistic and shallow our society is. I am sickened by the crap we buy just because it’s sold to us. I’m sickened by the fact that at times I am the one buying the crap.
Delight because this year I’ve acquired a husband, a new in-law family and a house, and I’ve been thinking that we get to have our own Christmas tree this year. As with many, Christmas brings back mostly happy childhood memories. My house has a lovely set of five street-facing window that will be perfect to show off our well-lit and decorated tree.
Tonight I spent some time picking out my own ornaments for what will become my first Christmas tree. Mine because it’s a family I have helped create, rather than one I have been born into. And holidays and Christmas trees just bring out that feeling of wanting the best for family and community.