I intend to sleep through Black Friday. If I could, I would sleep from now until Dec. 26.
I really hate this season — the endless pressure to buy, buy, buy, as if there is something in the acquisition of a discount microfiber sectional sofa that enhances life's quality and extends life expectancy.
On Black Friday, I will be warm and untroubled, occasionally working up enough energy to crack open a book or pick through the food that China King or any of our three neighborhood pizza franchises will deliver.
My college-age children will wander through the living room, cuddling with our variety of cats and planning to meet with their high school and college friends.
But I will not go out, much less camp out, in the frozen pre-dawn to get $30 off a laptop or Blu-ray player or a boxed set of anything.
First, I think Christmas should be a short spiritual holiday, not a sprawling credit-driven fantasy in which we all play Daddy Warbucks for a week with charity, get our smug on and assume that impoverished families are covered.
Families who are poor enough to have their names and needs hung on Santa trees are also needy in August.
Charitable giving is lovely, but making it seasonal only creates a consumer population that expects great stuff during the holidays and reduced-priced school lunches the rest of the year.
You want to do something meaningful? Tutor a kid in March. Donate a one-time housecleaning to a desperately sick person in May. Mow the lawn of a senior citizen in July.
But step off when it comes to what poor children want for Christmas, if you think that's going to give them long-term life improvement.
What they need is a sound education, attentive mentoring, a wardrobe that doesn't call attention to their poverty and a chance to succeed. These things don't just come from filling a box with adorable gewgaws and calling it a charitable day.
Teaching kids, rich or poor, that Christmas is about the stuff rather than the experience makes me queasy.
So, no, I haven't participated in Black Friday for a while. Being lazy about commercial Christmas and grateful when it's over — I spend the entire period between Halloween and Christmas envious of my Jewish friends — my only real conviction is that I'll shop when I shop, for what I need.
It's amazing how often people parrot the themes of "reduce, reuse, recyle, repair" while on their way out of the electronics superstore parking lot with the latest in HDTV splendor.
It's not that I don't believe in Christmas as a day of celebration. I like the hymns and the decorations and two or three days of Christmas good feeling.
But my real attitude toward Christmas was struck by something an acquaintance said many years ago during some form of holiday parental slavery into which we had allowed ourselves to be coerced by our overbearing school: "You know, when I was a child, we didn't even put up a wreath until Christmas Eve. It seemed more special."
She had the right idea. Christmas should be a holiday, a day's vacation with music and a nice church service, a few presents and a good meal.
What I don't like is the Christmas blastathon that sets up having consumers pick through 70-percent-off cashmere sweaters come January.
The Opinion section is produced by the Editorial Department to foster discussion about key issues. The Editorial Board represents the institutional voice of the Star Tribune and operates independently of the newsroom.