A little research tells me that this Black Friday craze officially started way back in 1952 when I was a mere 4 years old. I don’t know for sure. No Walmart existed in the big city of Hazlehurst back then. The phenomenon of Black Friday had not hit. I do know that when I was older, my mother would join her younger brother, Roy, and they’d go to Augusta to shop on Black Friday. When Mama traveled, Daddy traveled because she never learned to drive. And my sister apparently enjoyed the shopping trips and wouldn’t have missed them for anything. Even in my teen years, I wanted no part of the madness that venture entailed. I stayed home and read my books while the rest of the family shopped.
Now that adulthood has squatted upon me, I still want no part of Black Friday. I’ll not fight a crowd for any size television. I’ll never abandon my bed in the early morning hours to purchase a toaster at half price. I’ll buy my new Christmas tree a little bit later, even if I have to pay more for it. I’m not the most pleasant person early in the morning, and the world should not have to contend with me before coffee. Nor should I have to contend with the world that early.
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