I am by no means a scrooge.
That’s what I call my father, who actually refused to hang Christmas lights on our house this year.
I, on the other hand, revel in the holiday spirit: the white lights, the chilly temperatures and the quality family time. But the function of the gift-giving winter holidays has changed – for the worst.
I hail from a SF Bay Area town where Christmas translates to a time when daddy’s credit card swipes at full throttle – not for my family, but for the majority of those surrounding me.
I walked into the recently opened Juicy Couture store at the mall near my house only to find young girls, clad head-to-toe in Juicy, harassing their parents about the store’s new must-have arrivals.
“Daddy, I want this purse for Christmas!” a brutally annoying female adolescent barked in my left ear as she paraded across the store. The price tag read $395.
My best friend called me after she opened Christmas presents listing hundreds upon hundreds of dollars of pricey merchandise she opened by the tree.
Even my boyfriend’s extremely spoiled older brother (his mother still does his laundry, makes his bed and pays for plenty of his living expenses) said he felt “gross” opening gift after gift Christmas morning.
So, why do people become greedy during the holidays?
Although I can proudly say I would never allow my father to enter a Juicy Couture retailer, Christmas morning has driven me to dangerously bratty levels.
I was in seventh grade, the peak of my Mean Girl persona, and I desperately needed a pager – a baby blue one.
My parents, wanting to please their youngest daughter in fear of repercussions, searched and searched for my coveted pastel pager to no avail.
Christmas morning came, and I ripped open the package to find a teal green concoction staring back at me.
“Ew,” I said bluntly and threw the package down.
“I am not wearing a green pager.”
My parents were so disgusted with my behavior they swept away the present and vowed never to buy me another again.
Each Christmas morning my family and I joke about the bratty production.
I blame the situation on material-driven holidays, and how they foster greediness, while my parents blame our generation: spoiled and ungrateful.
Disgusted with lavish holiday spending, my father informed my family this year the presents under the Christmas tree would look sparse. He resents my mom for buying us a few things from every department at Nordstrom.
But I respected my dad for taking a stand against superfluous holiday-spending habits.
Or so I thought.
Come Christmas morning this year, I opened each gift with glee, very pleased with each: a Breakfast at Tiffany’s DVD, a hair straightener, Scrabble and some makeup. It was refreshing compared with usual until the present opening capped. I stared down at my pathetic gift pile, waiting for my parents to unveil a fabulous surprise.
Nothing else came, and I pouted briefly before realizing how utterly ridiculous I was acting. Christmas is supposed to mark a day of religious celebration, not a time for kids to compile grandiose lists of unessential material goods.
I for one need to realize Dec. 25 does not have to bring a new wardrobe, a new car or even a new baby blue pager.
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