Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and the Death of Humanity

I’m going to go off script for a moment. It’s Black Friday, I’m at home with my family, eating homemade beef stew that’s been slowly cooking for more than twenty-four hours. My family’s all out of town for Thanksgiving, spending time with other family, and I am acutely aware of their absence. We had friends over, had a wonderful feast, and I felt very thankful. Since my maternal grandparents died, Thanksgiving for me has never quite been the same. There’s no raucous gathering of family, no warm fires tended by my grandaddy, no ham sandwiches or oyster casserole.

That’s not to say it’s bleak or sad or that Thanksgivings since are somehow less. They are just different, and bittersweet, and an opportunity for reflection. I am thankful to have known my grandparents as I did, thankful for the time with family, and now thankful for time with friends and the few precious moments we now get with family.

I read this morning about a man killed by stampeding shoppers at a Wal-Mart on Long Island. He was dead before I’d even awoken from my food-induced coma. Killed by shoppers. Killed. By. Shoppers. At 6am. Senseless. Disgusting. As if that wasn’t enough, I also read in the same article that an eight-month pregnant woman was injured. The article didn’t specify whether she was an employee or a shopper, but I assume a shopper. Being killed while working at a retail store is ludicrous, and being part of a human stampede while eight months pregnant is just beyond my comprehension. [note: a friend pointed out that this particular article was from 2008, but my sentiment is unchanged.]

I’m trying hard to stay off my soapbox, but it’s hard. It’s hard to wrap my brain around as I sit here, in my comfortable house, cozy in my warm clothes, and think about folks who stood in line, or camped out, in the dark and the cold, to stampede a store at 5am and kill someone to save some money on a 50″ TV that they’ll replace in a few years. He’s dead folks–dead as a doornail. If this psychotic bloodsport doesn’t indicate the precipitous decline of humanity in the western world, I surely don’t know what does.

I know, I know, it was an accident. They didn’t mean to kill anyone. It’s horrible and unfortunate, but it’s no one’s fault. Really? We are all implicit, we are all guilty. You can blame the retailers, if you want, but their motives are obvious. Pressured by industry peers, cheap overseas labor, and I’m sure many other factors, retailers feel like they must support this crazed consumerism in order to stay in business. It is a dog-eat-dog world out there. But you know what? We are the enablers. We are the ones always looking for the deal, the ones lining up at 2am, the ones venturing out on Thanksgiving Day to get there first and save $100 on impulse buys that will be forgotten and discarded before we’ve paid them off on our credit cards.

I don’t know what I hope to accomplish here by writing this. Like I said, I’m going off script, as I am wont to do sometimes. This has essentially nothing to do with photography, save for the priceless-to-me photographs I have of those I care about. I certainly don’t think this damnation of materialism is going to effect some sort of meaningful change. I am taking the time today, though, to reflect on my life, to give thanks for my amazing good fortune, and most especially, to think about and send love to my people scattered all across the country.

Our most valuable “possessions” are time and health, family and friends–without them, the plasma TV and the hot new 64gb tablet are useless. Without them, life is meaningless. Take the time, while you have it, to make lasting memories with your family, your friends, you children, your pets. Yes, I know, your family drives you crazy. Yes, I know, the holidays can be stressful. Yes, I know, we don’t always get along.

I’d certainly rather spend an hour arguing with family than being trampled to death in a Wal-Mart. Of that I am certain.