Christmas season started for me on December 21st,
almost a month after Black Friday and weeks after many already maxed out their
credit cards. I went to a big box store. It was late and I already had a long
day that started before 4am. The ship and I had been at sea, almost continuously,
for a month, and we quietly pulled into
port. As I made my last Christmas purchases- mostly
premeditated with a few impulse decisions, I was bumped into by other weary
shoppers hustling like Olympic sprinters.
They used to say that once the crowd talks about the stock
market, it’s time to sell. But the post-election stock market surge kept good
times rolling. So much so that one guy told me that his stock market gains were
larger than his paycheck. I congratulated him on behalf of Uncle Sam, who
appreciates the hard work of passive income by giving a lower tax rate.
Conspicuous consumption is back, with new products to
“solve” the problems of the rich and “mass affluent”. You can see a stream of “Happy
Holiday” ads that make you forget the reasons for the season (the Temple in
Jerusalem for Jews or Christ’s Birth for Christians), not to mention songs
about bigger and better presents.
The millennials have more enlightened spending habits; they prefer to spend on
priceless and timeless experiences. Plane tickets to visit faraway family? It’s important. I whipped out a credit card,
rented a car, loaded it with my Christmas trinkets, and drove home. I spent two wonderful days with my family;
now it was time to plan for an unforgettable New Year’s. Should I bring the nice secondhand
Italian suit; or is that overkill for Norfolk, I thought? As I was driving back
to work for a shift on Christmas Day, I heard a song that I haven’t heard
before. Amazing, since it played the year I was born. The song was called “The Gift”, by Garth Brooks, and its protagonist is a
poor orphan girl named Maria:
“There were diamonds and incense and perfumes in packages
fit for a king;
but for one ragged bird in a small cage Maria had nothing to
bring...
Just then
the midnight bells rang out and the little bird started to sing
A song that no words could recapture, whose beauty was fit for a king”.
A song that no words could recapture, whose beauty was fit for a king”.
Merry, Joyous, Christmas to all.
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