Do we need a little less Christmas?

santa-claus-for-christmas_w128(Happy Throwback Tuesday! It should be “Throwback Thursday,” but I’m in charge here. This Christmas article originally ran on Dec. 27, 2012, and I believe its message is still relevant. In these inflationary times, it might be more relevant than ever.)

A reader responded to “I’m dreaming of a stripped-down Christmas” with a description of her 7-year-old’s Yuletide experience:

“There are so many gifts from extended family, it actually stresses him out to open them – usually there’s a good one in the first two or three and he wants to stop and play with it, not have it taken away and have to open 10 more things.

“It looks like ingratitude, and that’s a little of it – we’re lucky to already have everything we need and most of what we want, so he’s not that into new stuff – but it’s mostly sheer overwhelm at being the center of attention and having so many people around and then having to switch focus every moment.”

I saw a bit of that myself on Tuesday as I watched a young child open a massive pile of presents. He was a little stressed and cranky by the time he was through. In fact, he had to be coaxed into opening the last few packages.

When my oldest great-nephew was a toddler he was well-nigh buried in loot on Christmas morning. At one point he was nearly in tears, saying “No more!”

No more. Would that have happened when you were small?

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Staycation at Abby’s house.

Having escaped the warmth and humidity of Orlando, I am now experiencing the warmth and extreme dryness of Phoenix. While in Orlando I learned that I am no longer a theme-park person. (More on that below.) Also learned that four adults in a rather small hotel room is a recipe for anxiety; so was the need to schedule daily activities. By contrast, visiting my daughter is like a staycation, albeit at someone else’s house.

Eating whatever and whenever I choose. Reading until late at night and getting up when I feel like it, rather than rising when park activities (or other people’s getting-ups) decide.

Coming and going as I please, when I please. Sitting around and catching up for hours, with Netflix or Hulu on in the background. Doing small chores to give her a break, including helping tidy up the place and prepare snacks for a game night. (Why is it always easier and even fun to clean other people’s houses?)

A staycation, in other words.

It’s not that I won’t ever leave the house. We plan to browse the Savers thrift shop on Monday (half-price day) for a big glass bowl or Pyrex dish, as she wants to start making yogurt. We  plan to hit Bobby Q’s for ribs and sides. I hope to hang out with Sonya Ann, a regular reader from the MSN Money days. And on Friday, we’ll go to see “Die Hard: A Christmas Story,” presented by the All Puppet Players. (Yep: A plush John McClain shouting, “Yippee-cai-yay, mofos!”)

Mostly, though, it’s like any other visit to my daughter: hanging out. 

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Need something? Buy Nothing.

(Happy Throwback Thursday! Now that the no- or low-spend February is underway, I thought this post could help some of you avoid spending and/or declutter. It was originally published on Aug. 5, 2018. Ever since then I have been using the heck out of Buy Nothing, both to give and to receive. With luck, your local group will be a great year-round resource to you as well.)

I got a free mini-fridge yesterday. Not for me, for a friend. (Seriously!)

While clearly secondhand, with a couple of scratches and dings, it smells freshly washed on the inside and will help someone out.

Helping people out is the stated purpose of the fridge’s source: a Buy Nothing Facebook group.

Sort of an intensely local Freecycle, this page is a great way not just to keep things out of the landfill, but also to connect with your community.

I’ve gotten so much good stuff from this site, including but not limited to:

  • A waffle iron that had been used just once (and it has a beeping timer – no more scorched waffles!)
  • A never-before-played “Game of Thrones” board game, which became a Christmas gift
  • A pair of slippers for DF’s grandchild to wear when she visits (this is Alaska, and shoes go off at the door)
  • A wraparound-style fleece poncho (very soft and cozy)
  • A bright-red colander (which I use to drain my homemade yogurt)
  • Plastic storage totes
  • Lots of food: apples, powdered milk, flour, dried beans, yeast, lentils, baking powder, pasta, split peas, and canned vegetables, fruits, fish and Spam (some of which we donated to a food bank)
  • Dig-your-own horseradish roots (always looking for new garden challenges)
  • A huge roll of parchment paper (a crucial ingredient in making that ridiculously simple, ridiculously delicious rustic bread)

It also helped me find an elementary school teacher who was delighted to take some empty Altoid tins off my hands. She’s also stoked about receiving fidget spinners, slap bracelets and any other fun items I bring back from . (Teachers are always looking for things for their classrooms.) DF and I have given away a bunch of other things, too, such as books, clothing and fresh rhubarb.

My niece has been able to find new homes for some decorative items (she’s changing décor), some outgrown toys and kids’ clothing, and a big bag of shredded bedding for pet cages (her snake died). Recently she picked up a big bag of clothing for her younger son, and also a major holiday gift (again, can’t say exactly what in case the kiddo is reading). She and I both check the page regularly, to see if anyone’s giving away something useful.

Or looking for something useful – the Buy Nothing group runs both ways. If you don’t see what you need, you can ask.

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Thanks, Dad, for useful life skills.

(Note: A version of this article was published in MSN Money’s Smart Spending blog in 2009. I am re-running it for Throwback Thursday, because tomorrow is the first anniversary of his death from COVID-19.)

Years ago my dad had two teaching jobs: elementary school all day, and an evening gig with adolescents deemed too unruly for regular high school. One evening, a student flipped a penny at him. Dad picked it up and put it in his pocket. The teens laughed, and another one flipped a penny. Then another one.

When my father had 12 cents in his pocket, he said, “Guys, I want to thank you. All I need is 38 more of these and I’m going over to the Fairfield and have a draft beer – on you.”

He could see the horror in their faces: Man, I’m not gonna buy the TEACHER a beer! Not another penny was flung.

That was an example of what he would call a “useful life skill”: realizing that sometimes nontraditional tactics are needed to solve nontraditional situations.

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Missing out on the world.

(Happy Throwback Thursday! This piece originally ran on Sept. 9, 2018. Given how much time we’ve all spent on screens in the past year-plus, and given that the Delta variant might send us all back into lockdown, I thought the points in this post bore repeating.)

Nature Valley Canada recently asked three generations of families about how kids have fun. Grandparents and parents were asked what they liked to do when they were young. The third generation was asked, “What do you, a kid, like to do for fun?”

The grandparents and parents cited fishing, fort-building, gardening, berry-picking and other pastimes, smiling fondly as they recalled these simple pleasures. Their expressions changed as they listened to the answers from today’s crop of children.

Texting and e-mail. Video games. Binge-watching TV shows. A couple of girls, who looked no older than 10, noted they spend three to four hours a day texting and sending e-mails.

“I would die if I didn’t have my tablet,” one of them said.

A boy said that his video games are so engrossing that the real world disappears. He forgets his parents, his sibling, even his dog.

One child said that whenever he gets upset, he starts playing video games until he feels “normal.” Another boy said he can play for five hours in a row. Another mentioned having watched 23 episodes of a TV series in less than four days

A saddened parent responded in this way: “I actually feel a little sad, because I feel like he’s missing out on what’s out there in the beautiful world.”

Ditto. 

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9 reasons to get a library card.

The other day on Twitter a guy asked, “Does anybody still have a library card?” Not sure whether the question was plaintive or condescending, but the reaction was both swift and vociferous. The general consensus was, “Of course I do, and I don’t know why someone wouldn’t.”

One person actually said “I feel sorry for (that guy).”

Again, not sure where he weighed in on the topic. Maybe he’s one of those people who thinks he doesn’t need a library card because he has the Internet. But to paraphrase a meme I saw earlier today, “Saying you don’t need a library card because you have the Internet is like saying you don’t need a math teacher because you have a calculator.”

Maybe he was hoping to find his people online, because he’s one of those who got his library card as soon as he could sign his name. One of those who signed up for a new card every time he changed cities. One of those who, even though he reads e-books, swoons when he walks into a physical library and runs his fingers along the spines of the tomes in the “New Reads” section.

That would be me as well. Our libraries are finally open, and today I went back for the first time in probably a year and a half. The building itself is diminished: certain areas are closed off, and the traffic is noticeably lower than usual for a Saturday afternoon. But it was open. And I was finally back among my friends.

By “friends,” I of course mean “books.” I had to stop myself after choosing six. That took some doing, because I happen to know the limit is 50 items. But as much as I wanted to keep browsing, I didn’t want to carry 50 books. Besides, I figured I should save some of the new books for everyone else.

The library is one of my favorite places, and if you consider yourself frugal it should be among your top spots as well. Here’s why.

 

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Extreme Frugality: Post-holiday sales edition.

Each year retailers set out millions of dollars’ worth of holiday presents, décor, cards, wrapping paper and foods. And each year there’s always some (or a lot) left over. Hence the annual post-holiday sales, where we can save some (or a lot) of money.

I wish I’d written this for Dec. 26, when stores were fairly bursting with red and green bargains. But it’s not too late. While holiday retail inventory is down, it’s not out: Sales are still happening both online and in-store. The discounts are deeper, too.

Sure, some of what you’ll see went unsold for a reason. It was tacky. It was garish. It was expensive. It was mystifying (see “corgi-butt bottle opener”). But plenty of perfectly good stuff simply doesn’t get bought, and post-holiday sales can stretch next year’s holiday budget and certain year-round needs as well.

For example, if your winter boots have started to let in snow at every step, you’ll likely find screamin’ deals on replacement footwear at this point. Or if someone you know is going to graduate from college, get married, move into a new home or have a baby in the coming year, now is the time to go shopping.

As always: If you don’t need it, it’s no bargain. Why buy another 10 rolls of wrapping paper when you’ve already got two dozen? Or extra holiday ornaments when every inch of the tree is already crowded? And you can display only so many nutcrackers or old-time Santas before your family stages an intervention.

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Christmas in the time of COVID.

I wasn’t really feeling Christmas this year due to my dad’s death. But I found some workarounds.

A couple of weeks beforehand I tried to jump-start old memories by visiting the city’s largest nursery and walking among the Christmas trees that were all lined up and waiting for new homes.

That evergreen smell usually does it for me, and I did start feeling a bit Kris Kringle-y. This time, however, the fragrance of the season was at war with the fact that for decades my dad raised Christmas trees as a side hustle.

That made me feel a bit weepy, but I fought to counter this with good memories of those trees: helping plant them for a couple of years as a teenager, and doing tree-related chores with him during visits as an adult.

That helped, which is something I should remember when I feel like raging against the COVID that took him away. One of the platitudes people like to bring up when you’re grieving is, “Think of all the good times you had together!” Turns out that this is true and in fact entirely rational, but it doesn’t always help when you’re in the thick of dammit-this-isn’t-FAIR.

This time, it did, and I am grateful.

Bonus: My teen-aged great-niece* accompanied me. We enjoyed looking at the trees, inhaling the fragrance, and clutching imaginary pearls when we looked at price tags. Live trees** are a mania with some Alaskans and they’re willing to pay big bucks for evergreens that have been transported up from the Lower 48.

We also got a great kick out of the nursery’s gift shop, rife as it was with displays of fancy textiles, soaps, lotions, glassware, chocolates and Department 56 holiday village collectibles. The trip was a balm for our gray-winter-day eyes. That close to solstice, we would take any color we could get.

We also noticed that Department 56 now makes Halloween village collectibles, including a subset of Harry Potter stuff. I suppose it was only a matter of time. 

 

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Extreme frugality: Holiday attitude edition.

(This is another in an occasional series of articles focusing on saving serious dough. A little background can be read here.)

Part of me thinks it’s a bit late to bring up the holidays, since some people have already finished their shopping and have their decorating plans well underway.

Then again, I expect lots of people have barely begun, because 2020 has sucked as relentlessly as gravity. Heck, April lasted something like 22 weeks and the pre- and post-election antics have left my head spinning. How about yours?

Money is a bigger-than-usual issue this year. #ThanksCOVID Layoffs, work slowdowns and dismal business returns have left some people frankly terrified. Should they spend on gifts and tinsel when they’re worried about being able to make the rent next month?

Spoiler alert: Some do. CreditCards.com surveyed 2,369 U.S. residents and almost half were willing to acquire debt (or sink deeper into it) to prepare for Dec. 25.

Here’s another sign of the times. Recently the Buy Nothing Facebook group to which I belong split into three smaller groups. One former member reports that her new group has very few giveaways but is replete with requests – many of them for food.

That led me to wonder how many of those Buy Nothing giveaway items are going to constitute a big part of Christmas for some households, both in that group and in my own. Certainly I’ve seen responses like, “This would be a great Christmas gift for my son” or “We’d love to get those decorations because we don’t have any and it’s been a tough year.”

So maybe it’s not too late for me to write about this topic. Maybe it’s the perfect time. 

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My first virtual funeral.

It happened one week after my first Zoom farewell. Dad’s funeral took place today at 10 a.m. Eastern (6 a.m. Alaska time), with a family viewing starting at 9 a.m. My sister-in-law called me via FaceTime so that my niece and I could attend.

In fact, she called at 5:45 a.m. so that we could attend the viewing as well. Obviously itwas painful and jarring to see Dad in his coffin. Yet it was actually an improvement over the last time I’d seen him, unconscious and on a ventilator. He looked the way I expected him to look: recognizable as my father, yet not much like him. There, but not there.

My niece and I were also there, but not there, thanks be to technology. I’m not being sarcastic. It was hard, of course, and we cried, but we also got to be part of this ritual from afar. Funerals aren’t actually for the dead. They’re for the living. The dead don’t much care what you do to them. The grieving survivors, however, need some kind of ceremony to come to terms with the reality in front of them.

It was of course surreal to hear the eulogy from 4,300-plus miles away. And it was heart-wrenching to see family photos displayed: Dad as a kid with his siblings, as a teenager with his brand-new ham radio set, as a high-school senior at the prom with my mother (both of them looking sophisticated yet impossibly young, like children playing dress-up), as a father of young kids (us) and then as a father of adult kids.

Dad with dance friends. Dad standing out in front of his Christmas-tree farm. Dad at his wedding to Priscilla.

And nearby, Dad in his final repose. Watching Priscilla kiss him goodbye and gently tuck a light blanket around him brought me to my knees: I will never see my Dad again in this life.

 

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