Here in beautiful, crime-free Iuka, Mississippi we are about a week removed from Halloween and my sainted wife is worried she may be getting behind on putting the Christmas tree up. At this rate, I am thinking she will get the tree up next year before me and the kids are finished shooting the last of the Fourth of July fireworks. During this time of national elections, I know some of you are watching the economy pretty closely, so you probably noticed the bump in the gross national product that must have occurred when my wife purchased our newest Christmas tree. I figured I was in trouble when she brought up the subject of a new tree by calling it ”a great investment.” My wife explained that, while the tree was “a little pricey” (said in the same tone of voice I’m sure NASA used when they first pitched the Apollo Program), it did come with a two-year warranty. A two-year warranty! When I was a kid, my parents used the same fake tree for two decades - and while it didn’t come with attached lights, if you squinted, the asbestos dust it was covered in looked sort of like fake snow. I can’t wait to start getting calls in eight months about getting an extended warranty on my Christmas tree. I guess the point is they say there’s no place like home for the holidays, and that really comes into focus when your Christmas tree costs as much as your house payment.
Speaking of installment payments I’ve had to sign in blood, I do not care what QVC says, when a non-government entity auto-deducts half of your paycheck every month so you end up having to bring Ramen noodles to your family Thanksgiving, then you can no longer call that “easy pay.” I cannot tell you people the things my sainted wife has purchased with a wave of the hand and a “don’t worry, I got it on five easy pay.” The way she dismisses the cost of something on five easy pay is like someone thinking they are paying the price of a bottle of Louisiana Hot Sauce when they’re actually purchasing the literal Louisiana Purchase. Like, the key word in five easy pay is still “pay.” It is certainly more important than the word “easy,” which together makes one of those phrases kind of like “jumbo shrimp.” In my average week, I work Monday morning through about Wednesday afternoon to pay off QVC. The rest of the week is to keep up my family in loaded teas.
I don’t know if you noticed my brief reference to Thanksgiving in the last paragraph, but I consider that fitting since that’s about all Thanksgiving has become in America: a day you briefly acknowledge in your eight-month slow march to Christmas. Frankly, in this neck of the woods, Thanksgiving is no longer about a day of giving thanks but rather it’s a day of giving grief to your family members that cheer for the wrong team during the Egg Bowl. At Thanksgiving with my in-laws, during dessert, they traditionally bring out all the Black Friday flyers from area newspapers and pick which stores they want to hit. I mean, I don’t want to be the Scrooge around here, but can’t we at least start digesting the pumpkin pie before we move on to the next holiday? I’ve never seen someone take one last bite of Christmas ham and say, “That was pretty good but I can’t wait for those Presidents Day mattress sales!”
I don’t know if Tishomingo County will ever get a white Christmas, but I do wish for all of you a greater miracle this holiday season - may your bank account make it through Christmas in the black.