I have never shopped on Black Friday. Fighting crowds, standing in line, being around that many people in one place has never appealed to me. I guess I’ve never needed an item badly enough to go through the ordeal.
Two of my sisters and I had a tradition of baking cookies with our mother the day after Thanksgiving. We would gather at my older sister’s apartment our favorite recipes and ingredients in hand and spend the morning making fudge, cookies and popcorn balls.
Afterward we would gather our father and we would all head over to our parent’s favorite coffee shop. The shop, located in Grand Haven, was called Jumpin’ Java, but the owner’s name was Doris, so we always called it Doris’s place.
Times change, my older sister and my mother passed away years ago and we are 2,000 miles from Michigan, but we still have our traditions.
Our daughter and her sons traditionally buy their Christmas tree the Friday after Thanksgiving. There is a tree farm not too far from the campground, so King and I empty out the back of the pickup (which serves as our garage) and meet our daughter at the tree farm. The truck is perfect for hauling her prize tree home. And yes, we cut it down ourselves.
We have been doing this since we started wintering in California in 2016, but this year was the first year King and I got to the farm before they opened at 10 a.m.
I was all for waiting in the truck until our daughter arrived, but King thought we should stand in line with the rest of the (jolly fellows) already in line. It is the closest I ever want to get to Black Friday shopping.
The gates opened promptly at 10 a.m. and people made a mad dash for the trees — literally running through the parking lot to claim their prize. A young father with his child in tow bumped King out of the way, while sing-songing to the child, “Come with Poppa to get our tree.” King looked at him, motioned with his arm indicating the man should continue on his way and said, “Please, after you.” The guy didn’t get it. His wife did. She was embarrassed.
There were thousands of pre-cut trees in stands and more wrapped in burlap waiting to replace the ones being purchased. There were also several 10-acre plots with live trees for cutting and half barrels filled with saws were strategically placed throughout the fields. People stood by their trees while family member went to get a saw, or (if it was pre-cut) to find someone to help.
I think the last time I purchased a tree in Michigan the price was probably $30 or $40 – for a spruce. California trees start at $50 for something that comes up to my navel. Pre-cut tree prices start at $80 and go up from there. King was told a fresh-cut tree was $15 a foot, but we got one taller than he is by at least a foot (he’s 6’ 3” – or he used to be) and I paid $79.99. My math must be different from California math.
We were back at our daughter’s apartment by 11:30 and after a little work, got the tree upright in the stand and were ready to decorate. It went quite smoothly. The biggest fight between my parents I ever witnessed was over setting up the Christmas tree. Dad ended up building a tree stand out of some scrap pieces of cast iron welded together in the shop at the factory he managed. We never had a problem with a tree leaning again. The stand was so heavy I’m sure the living room floor sagged a little, but the tree was straight.
And so the holiday season begins.
May your troubles be less and your blessings be more and may nothing but happiness come through your door. – An Irish blessing
