Nov. 18, 2003 - 23:05 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

Idly Mindless

Sitting on a bench in the supermarket with note pad in lap and pen in hand while Heather roams the aisles. I remembered that Thanksgiving is near. The day after Thanksgiving even the traditionalist women get out their heavy duty shoulder strap purses, load them with cash, checkbooks and credit cards and extra Tylenol for the fantods.

Those intrepid Moms, Grandmas, Aunties throw themselves into the fray of Christmas shopping. They go out to the malls and all frantically searching for the items unique for this season that are desired by the pre-teens and teens of their extended families.

Searching for the loot, they try to be the swiftest and most dextrous of people, snatching a coveted toy from the jaws or hands of one not family.

Each year it is something new and different from last years Christmas prizes (surprises), that the young'uns crave and have been wishing for from just before Thanksgiving, or earlier if the ad-men are on the stick.

Are we all better off now than we were when I was a callow kid ? I think our desires were somewhat simpler then. With a boy, I think his wants were first a trike, later sidewalk roller skates (I wore out a few pair of them), then when his coordination warranted it a wonderful bicycle. Clothes made the scene, with just the right fit and usually acceptable color and style as if by magic. Not really wished for, but gracefully accepted with thanks.

Girls, what little I knew of them, seemed to want additions to their doll families along with new doll clothes, doll carriages and devoutly desired sets of dishes for the dollies to eat from.

Now I think, boys and girls both along with their desires of traditional type want more the electric, electronic electives with their associated boops, beeps, toots, tweets, flashing lights and images, which by the bye cost a bundle -- each.

The men of the families work during the days so their contribution is in the form or cash or checks to finance the ladies Christmas shopping. They bite the bullet and go on with their sweating toil.

The ladies maybe having a snack and coffee to refresh go on with the attack on the malls, shops and stores until fatigue just about decks them. They have snatched prizes from the hands of others and stood in the mile long lines at the check out counter and braved the rush hour traffic on the way home. Arriving, arms laden with booty which is stuffed in an out of the way place waiting to be wrapped later, the lady sits down and catches her breath. There is occasional lagniappe in the form of dinner out for the family given by Father. Well deserved after a shop 'til you drop foray.

I see Heather approaching, fold my notebook and get ready to go. For a while I mused, this feckless fool, Idly Mindless . . . . . . . .

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