It’s almost Thanksgiving, though it’s hard to tell. I heard an interview of a graduate of Butterball Turkey University encouraging me to call with my questions about how much to buy and recipes to impress my guests. But that was on National Public Radio so I may have been one of relatively few listeners. I’ve heard not a word about Pilgrims or Plymouth Rock or friendly Indians. The rest of the media attention is on how Black Friday has morphed into Black November.
Since before Halloween my email inbox has been jammed with messages from the half dozen retailers I haven’t blocked shouting, “Don’t wait for Black Friday!” You can tell they are shouting by the huge bold fonts they use. We’ve given up on gift giving as the reason for our buying frenzy. Just let me at that 84 inch HDTV. I’m fed up with the dinky 72 inch one I got last year. Uncle Charley will love the argyle sox (compares at $49) I found for him at TJ Maxx for $7.99.
Amid all this I am wondering what happened to Thanksgiving. I pine for the good old days when some fretted that Thanksgiving was only a day to watch football, dinner coincided with halftime, and women complained the only time they saw their men was when they called for more Doritos and cold beverages. That’s got to be better than hurrying through my third helping of turkey and stuffing to be first in line at Walmart when they open at 6 PM on Black Friday Eve.
Young Grandpa Keith