Thanks to the generosity of a good friend with an even more generous employer, I recently sat in a seat at Safeco Stadium that, on an annual basis, costs more than my college education. And the only thing between the field and us was a conspicuously wealthy family of three that didn't say a word to each other the entire game.
The timing was perfect since it was well-before Halloween and the season of debt and gluttony - descending on us earlier and earlier every year - was right around the corner. Since I didn't bring a book, and I find baseball about as exciting as watching paint dry, I started thinking about America's materialistic, throw-away society and the culture of excess, consumption and debt that was about to swing into high gear.
Indeed, the following month, as soon as that pesky day of giving thanks was out of the way, retailers across the country cheerfully announced that Black Friday was a "complete success." According to ShopperTrak RCT Corp., a Chicago-based firm that tracks sales at more than 50,000 retail outlets, shoppers spent $10.3 billion on Black Friday, $6.1 billion on Saturday and $3.6 billion on Sunday - for a total of $20 billion - up 6.5 percent from last year.
The holiday cheer continued on Cyber Monday with online shoppers spending $733 million, up 21 percent from last year, said ComScore Inc., which measures online activity.
Wow. By those numbers you'd never know that, according to the Washington Post, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan have already cost the average American family of four more than $20,000 in increased oil prices, care for the wounded, fixing damaged military equipment and interest on foreign debt. Or that 36.5 million Americans are considered "officially poor" according to recent U.S. Census Bureau figures. Or that more than 47 million Americans can't afford health insurance. Or that U.S. foreclosures, bankruptcies and auto loan delinquencies are on the rise and home values in many markets on the decline.
So where is all the expendable cash coming from? Oh, I guess there's no "cash" involved in a good 'ole American Christmas anymore, is there?
That must be why Federal Reserve research indicates that household debt is at a record high with the average American household carrying a median amount of $6,600 in credit card debt and paying nearly $1,500 a year in interest. In the first three quarters of this year, bankruptcy filings by individuals or households with consumer debt increased 40 percent compared with the same period a year ago.
Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how to respond to my curious and - worst of all - observant preschooler when she says things like, "Santa brings presents to nice kids, not naughty ones, right mom?" I mean, that is what the song says, isn't it?
And while I have yet to come up with an age-appropriate answer that doesn't get into the complexities of poverty, culture and socioeconomics just yet, I am starting some new traditions this year...
First, we are going to spend a lot more time together and a lot less time shopping. To that end, the husband and I have agreed on no individual gifts for one another (his fave - no more last minute shopping). Instead, we'll agree on one thing that will benefit both of us and that we can pay for with cash. In fact, other than our kids, who won't find more than a handful of gifts under the tree, we don't plan to buy presents for anyone this year.
No Grinches here, though. We'll be baking a ton of cookies for friends and neighbors. And I've already got several great gifts for my girls that I know they will love, like matching silk kimonos, big red cardboard blocks for my rowdy toddler (just like the ones I had when I was a kid!), two dresses and a fluffy pink stole for my girly-girl preschooler and a few other hot scores, but so far I've spent less than $25 at Goodwill, and another South End Craig's Lister gave us the blocks for free.
And while I would love to say that I'm just naturally blessed with frugality and good sense, I've not only experienced the despair of both poverty and credit card debt, but last year, as I watched my children gobble up their mound of lovely new gifts, I had a chilling realization.
As a child, after the frenzy of tearing into what I'd always hoped would be a bigger pile than last year, I was left with a strangely empty feeling despite the mess of gleaming new gifts at my feet. A barrenness that, a decade later during a reckless teen rebellion, resembled far too closely for comfort that hollow sensation that accompanies coming down from controlled substances.
And those are two thing I definitely don't want to give to my kids - a sense of entitlement or the need to search desperately for external gratification.
