Years ago my husband had a colleague by the name of Les Moore.  He was a hardworking, quality guy, but he was not a “big man” in physical stature – a geeky engineer for sure. My husband, also a geeky engineer at the time, would always joke about Les and his work ethic and his trim stature by saying this little ditty whenever Les’s name came up in conversation, “Ah, Les Moore – when Les is Moore!”

This year as America’s greatest season of material consumption once again draws near I find myself thinking of this little phrase for a different reason. As a parent I am saddened by the ever increasing level of consumerism present in our children’s lives. We, and thus they, are bombarded daily with messages that life is not worth it if you do not have stuff, lots of stuff. And amidst these messages it is almost impossible to get our message across to them – that there is more to life than stuff, there is more to fun than shopping, there is more to love than the gifting of expensive objects.

Just today I listened to an ad for a local superstore. The one minute radio spot opens with the sound of people caroling outside a neighbor’s home. However when no one comes to the door to welcome the spirit-filled singers, they deduce that “everyone” must be at X store’s big holiday sale. The lead caroler, not to be deterred by the lack of individuals at home encourages the group to press on to the next house, while the two other singers decide to defect to the sale. In the end, the leader defects as well, leaving the spirit of Christmas I loved as a child melting in the trampled snow at the entrance to their local big box store.

Even more disturbing were the reports of violence by shoppers against other shoppers this past Black Friday. Stories of a pepper-spray-wielding woman and customers who stepped over an unconscious man in their quest for the best deal of the day marred what just a few years ago was known as a time for family fellowship and left-overs of turkey and pie. What does this say about what our nation’s respect for its founding father’s holiday? More importantly, what message is it sending to our very impressionable children?

The talk following this day of disturbing shopping seemed to pin the blame equally on retailers and their media cohorts. It was noted in a recent NPR interview that in the last few years the level of sales madness has risen exponentially, with stores now opening on Thanksgiving itself in order to attract the most buyers, and thus the best profit.

But I know as the child of a parent who always felt the need to use her wallet to show her love to her long-distance grandchildren, that we ourselves can be just as guilty as the merchant or marketing mogul, if we are not careful.

Indeed, I remember distinctly my downright disappointment when my mother arrived in our driveway one Christmas with my father’s new station wagon filled to the roof with individually wrapped gifts for our daughters, then aged six and three. As we worked that evening to unload the monstrous mound of what I was sure were the best toys and cutest outfits money could buy, I was stricken by the disturbing thought that despite my previous pleas to “go easy on gifts” there would be more under our Christmas tree from Granny and Pop Pop than from dear Santa.

I mean really, how would our young children receive this ridiculously large number of gifts? Our beloved, still innocent girls, who we had worked hard to educate about the REAL reason for the season? How would the special spirit of ‘ole St. Nickolas, whose job we had told them was to bring a few special toys, shine past the bright lights and glittering baubles of Granny’s pile of presents? And how would my mother, who always wanted her recipients to dutifully admire her shopping work, receive the muffled and ultimately glazed-eye responses of her overwhelmed granddaughters?

I hate to admit it but for all the years after that, when my mother had to ship her mountain of love, rather than drive it down in person, my husband and I would pull out a few select “Granny and Pop Pop” gifts to give to them on Christmas, saving the rest to be opened later in the New Year, or not at all. If we had not we would have spent every year with glazed-eyed children melting down by noon with severe cases of “gift overload”.

Thus, in the end, I do not know if the media copies life (i.e. advertisers and merchants are only mimicking what they see in our behavior) or life copies the media (i.e. we must buy, buy, buy if we are to enjoy Christmas) when it comes to our consumerism. Nonetheless, I do know in our house we will once again continue to follow the Less is More tenet of Holiday buying. Because:

Less presents, mean less shopping and more time spent enjoying holiday traditions with our children, including lounging around on the day after Thanksgiving playing with cousins and eating leftovers.

Less presents, mean that the message “I bought this for you because I thought it was perfect for you” shines through more than the message “you need this, and this, and this to be somebody.”

Less presents, mean more money in the bank for the important things in life.

Less presents, mean more likelihood that that our family tenet: “what matters most is the person you are inside and not what you wear or own” will be heard over the constant din of consumerism.