Anyway.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. And I'm choosing to work six hours of overtime in my service-industry job instead of taking the whole day off as part of the company holiday. Friday also is a company holiday. Another day off with pay if I wanted it. And I'm working 12 hours of overtime that day. Eighteen hours of time-and-a-half in addition to the regular pay I get for working those days.
Cha-ching.
And that apparently makes me part of the problem. I must be one of those who has commercialized the holidays instead of embracing peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Money, money, money. That's all we're about. I must not care about the desecration of Thanksgiving by choosing to work rather than staying home to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" while trimming the Christmas tree.
You might even be thinking: "I bet he's one of those 'Happy Holidays' folks, too."
Given those conclusions, here's a little secret you'd never believe. I'm actually -- wait for it -- thankful for the opportunity to make the extra money tomorrow. Strange, isn't it, being thankful on and for Thanksgiving? Because of my chance and my choice to work a few on Thanksgiving, my family will have a Christmas. Not the kind you're thinking. There will be no big-screen TVs, no computers or flashing-light gizmos waiting to be opened. Baby, Santa's not going to slip a Sable under the tree. For me.
In fact, retailers are going to be pretty ticked at our family this year. Between the Geezer and I, we'll probably not spend more than $80 total exchanging gifts. Without some holiday overtime, even that might be hard to come by. Several hundred unplanned dollars in doctor bills for the never-ending, no-cure illness called bronchitis and other life surprises will do that to you. Don't feel sorry for us. We're not feeling sorry for ourselves. We'll have a nice Christmas with what we have. Always do. Christmas, like Thanksgiving, is what you make of it.
Here's the thing. I'm not alone. Times are hard for a lot of folks. Those kids ringing up junk tomorrow at Widgets-R-Us make several dollars an hour less than I. You don't think that the lion's share of those folks aren't thankful for some time-and-a-half? Sure, there will be some who are upset about having to work a few hours if it means they have to leave Aunt Bea's right after lunch in order to get to work on time. The vocal minority always screams the loudest, in all matters. Theirs is the story that always gets told, even if it doesn't represent the whole.
Look, I like Norman Rockwell as much as the next guy. But stores being open on Thanksgiving isn't what's killing your Norman Rockwell holiday. In fact, for the majority of people, that holiday has been dead for years already. You really think if there wasn't shopping for the women to do the whole family would sit around the cleaned-off dinner table after supper swapping yarns about the good old days, sipping cocoa and playing Canasta until grandpa falls asleep and drools on his cards?
Nope. In most households the dirty dishes are still on the table when the TV comes on, if it wasn't already on throughout the meal. There are, after all, important football games to be played. The womenfolk just have to understand that family reconnecting and all the associated warm fuzzies are one thing. Football is something else entirely, particularly with the playoffs looming. Where's the righteous indignation directed at the NFL, the NCAA and the networks for having the audacity to spit on Norman Rockwell with a football game or 12?
In some parts of the country, Thanksgiving is synonymous with deer hunting. Let's hurry up with lunch so we can go out and kill something! Hunting isn't exactly a family-bonding experience, either. Having the entire family traipsing through the woods together chatting about how good the giblet gravy was while looking for a trophy rack tends to keep those racks beyond the rifle scope. It's a solitary sport on a "family" holiday. But we don't dare criticize hunting during Thanksgiving. If we did, we'd draw the ire of and get a generous dose of condescension from the NRA. You know them. They're that Order-of-the-Levites society that God on Sinai ordained to zealously guard and protect His Second Amendment, immediately after etching the sacred document in stone and handing it to Moses along with the tablet containing the far-less-important Ten Suggestions. So like football, hunting gets a free pass, too.
Families and family-oriented traditions have been eroding for decades. Shopping on Thanksgiving isn't the beginning of the end, nor is it the end of the end. You want Norman Rockwell back? Re-instill Norman Rockwell values back into American families.
In the meantime, I'll still have a good Thanksgiving tomorrow, in spite of working a few hours to help make ends meet. I'll still have the big meal, pray over it longer than usual and wish I'd had one less slice of pie when I push away from the table. Then I'll go to my office and punch the clock for a few hours. When I'm done, I'll crawl in bed and be thankful all over again.
I'll be thankful for your sake, that you didn't have or need to work on Thanksgiving, if in fact you don't. I'll be thankful that God saw my need and made a way to meet it. I'll be thankful that He likewise made a way for that single mom with a high school diploma and a minimum-wage paycheck who rings up all that crap at Cheap-O-Rama tomorrow to make a little extra so her needs could be met, as well. I'll be thankful that I have a job to work and money to pay the bills at a time when so many around me need work and can't find it.
It might not make a great painting, but I think Norman would understand.
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