Buy Nothing Day Especially Relevant this Year 

By Juliana Pearson (Nov. 21, 2001)

Every year on the Day after Thanksgiving, my Aunt Jo wakes up early and drives to the local K-Mart to begin her Christmas shopping, still full from the last night’s feast. The six Thanksgivings I spent at her house had a Norman Rockwell-like character. My aunt toiled in the kitchen for hours on homemade stuffing, cranberry sauce and mincemeat pies. When we sat down to eat, we said a blessing and counted our own. We seemed to profoundly appreciate each other, sitting around the immense dining room table, sharing a meal.

However, the next morning the appreciation had disappeared as fast as the last piece of pie. By the time I awoke on Friday, Aunt Jo had already departed for K-mart. The simplicity of Thanksgiving soon departed. It was now time to prepare for the next holiday: to jump on the Christmas consumerism bandwagon. I didn’t think much about the K-mart trip until I accompanied Jo when I was in eighth grade.

The store opened early that Friday morning, at seven A.M. When we arrived at half past the hour, the parking lot was already bustling with shoppers. It seemed as though every resident of the small Minnesota town in which she lives had converged on the store. Inside, shoppers clamored up and down the aisles, searching for the perfect gifts. Children in the toy aisle screamed that they wanted one item, and then begged for another. What surprised me is that Jo seemed to have no objective. She walked briskly through the store, hoping to spot the ideal gift for her husband/grandchild/son. Waiting in the long line to buy these "perfect gifts" I remembered the simplistic feeling my family had experienced the night before. Standing in the line felt ironic and absurd. 

The K-mart scene is a common phenomenon across the country. On Thursday, people celebrate their blessings and spiritual possessions. On Friday, they surrender crumpled green bills to the material. Why? They are trapped by commercialism. If commercialism had no influence, I’m sure the malls would be nearly silent the day after Thanksgiving. Advertisers have made sure we’re all aware that Friday is a day we’re "supposed" to shop ‘til we drop. Who hasn’t noticed, for example, the holiday lights and garlands on the strip mall near George Mason? While they may fill us with the Yuletide spirit, the retailers are trying to entice us into their stores. They want us to abandon our spiritual connections to the holidays for the material scramble, and many shoppers readily consent.

How might we combat the absurdity of this post-Thanksgiving consumerism? One activist group, Ad Busters, has an impressive idea: Buy Nothing Day. According to their web-site, adbusters.org, "Buy Nothing Day is a worldwide celebration of consumer awareness and simple living." One celebrates it exactly as the name implies. It’s an excellent idea.

In the wake of September 11^th, Buy Nothing Day might seem unpatriotic. In America’s New War, our leaders are encouraging us to spend, spend, spend, in hopes of helping along a lagging economy. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as patriotic as the next person; I would like to see our economy soar.

However, I believe that Buy Nothing Day has a newfound meaning this year. It’s even more important that we take time to cherish our immaterial blessings. This year, let’s celebrate Buy Nothing Day. No, I’m not trying to institute a ban on holiday gifts. We should simply extend the true Thanksgiving feeling for one more day. Spend November 23^rd with your family, call a far-away friend, compliment the cook on the last piece of mincemeat pie. Whatever you do, don’t go to K-Mart.