Too much is way, way more than enough

Too much is way, way more than enough

Dec. 14, 2000

'Smatter of Fact
By Katharhynn Heidelberg

Soon upon a time, in a living room not so far, far away, it’s going to happen. Christmas! Presents! Wrapping paper and bows flying everywhere, to the delight of cats and small children. Smiles. Laughter. A happy family scene.

This is what Christmas should be. The sad part is, we are beginning to forget that presents are tangible ex-pressions of love, not proof positive that we have won an insane competition to get the big-gest, brightest and "best" gift.

I’m not sure whether it starts with Junior tugging on the parental sleeve and saying: "I want..." or with the zealous ad campaigns of big companies. Whatever the case, along about Thanksgiving, our greed factor is whipped into a frenzy, and the race begins.

Mom and Dad rush to the Big Store, cell phones in hand. She takes the toy aisle; he heads to the computer section. They shove, pinch and poke, while shouting as loudly as possible into their precious phones.

"I’ve got the last Pretty Pinky Princess Doll, Tom; how are you doing?"

"Well, Kate, some jerk just took the last Bright Flashing Lights and Obnoxious Sounds game, so I’m gonna have to auction the house on E-fleece to bribe him...Wait! There’s a granny heading up Aisle 5 with a Game Station 40! You can take her!"

"Awwright! What’s her 20 now?"

Okay, so the above is an exaggeration. Yet, it is also this season’s advertising taken to the logical extension, and that is sad. Some of the more egregious examples include Best Buy’s commercials, the humorous intent notwithstanding.

One shows a family padding around in pajamas, enjoying the many, wonderful gadgets they have received from "Santa." The punchline is that, outside, it is spring. These folks are cast as comical sorts of losers, but the subtle message is clear: Best Buy’s products are too wonderful to ignore, and it is this the selling point. Ultimately, it is a perversion of the "happy family scene" Christmas morning is supposed to be, because in the commercial, everyone is focused on things instead of each other.

A computer company advertisement would like us to think that it is appealing to our sense of logic. Its preteen huckster carefully explains why he "needs" a new computer and why it should be this particular one. The price, as he is sure to mention numerous times, is "only" $899.

I’m sure Junior would be thrilled to receive a computer or a PlayStation II this holiday season. What I’m not so sure of is how Junior would feel if he knew mommy had stomped on a mall Santa to get to that electronic babysitter, or if he really thinks a quarter deposited in the Salvation Army bucket can buy an indulgence for Christmas shopping sins. I’m also not sure he could grasp the logic of going without for the first half of 2001 so that mommy and daddy can get out of debt.

What children do grasp — or at least, used to — is that, the "best buy" is not always the best gift. I once wanted a certain plastic castle that had a pink alligator for its moat. When my birthday rolled around, I received a red bead on a pink piece of yarn to wear as a necklace, and I was ecstatic. I forgot about that pink alligator — I had a magic bead and my big sister had made it herself!

Another time, when plastic Barbie™ houses were all the rage, my sister and I received handmade, wooden boxes for our dolls, painted by my father. My friends’ plastic dream houses are now littering a landfill somewhere, but my box is intact, in my closet, and holding old letters.

So, it is without reservation that I recommend the following gift for psycho shoppers everywhere: a dictionary, with the words "priority" and "perspective" circled in festive red and green.