I’ve got a stack of catalogs on the floor beside my desk. They’ve been coming for months, but a few weeks ago, I thought instead of recycling them immediately, I’d make a stack beside my desk – not that I need another one of those – but to see if I could detect some sort of pattern.
There’s L.L. Bean, Land’s End, Chadwick’s, Winter Silks, Herrington – it bills itself as “the Enthusiast’s Catalog,” but it didn’t do much for me – Real Goods, Sierra Trading Post, L.L. Bean again, Coldwater Creek, Harry and David, the Daily Planet, the Company Store – I always thought the connotation to the “company store” was extraordinarily overpriced goods, and they are – Williams-Sonoma, L.L. Bean AGAIN, Land’s End again, this one with a “mystery Santa” who is obviously Larry Bird, Hammacher Schlemmer, the Sharper Image – how DO we get on these lists? – Bed, Bath and Beyond – do you really want a toilet brush for Christmas? – Harmony, the Writers Store and Wind and Weather, which we actually get for free here in Vermont.
But where is Victoria’s Secret? – the catalog that is a gift in itself. How did we wind up with Hammacher Schlemmer and Harry and David, but we’re dropped from Victoria’s Secret? About five years ago, I was quoted by the Associated Press as saying it wasn’t worth cutting down old-growth trees to print Victoria’s Secret catalogs and so I suppose this is payback time. Talk about holding a grudge.
Aside from the daily onslaught of catalogs, this is the time of year when phone calls come and go among extended family members to decide who should get what for Christmas. There are certain similar elements to these calls – long silences and exasperated sighing. Then there’s the script, with lines like, “Wow – y’know, I really don’t know what she wants…” or “Gee, he certainly doesn’t need anything…”
What’s going on here? Are we such strangers from our nuclear families that parents don’t know what children want for Christmas? No, I don’t think that’s it – I think what’s really at work here is that we have so much stuff already, we have acquired and acquired so much stuff that we’re drowning in it and the thought of acquiring more stuff – even as gifts – is enough to make us anxious and restless.
One day, in the middle of all this, I’m lugging another batch of catalogs in from the mailbox and I notice one is from Habitat for Humanity. “Oh nuts,” I thought. “Is no one immune from the catalog frenzy?”
The Habitat catalog was different. There was nothing in it that I or anyone in my extended family wants or needs. It was full of things needed by people I’ve never met. For example, $20 buys a 50-pound box of nails to be used on a Habitat house, or for $200, you can buy enough nails for the whole house. For $50 you can buy a kitchen sink or for $1,300 you can buy plumbing for the whole house. The list goes on and on, but you get the picture.
The houses are built by volunteers and by the people who will someday live in them. The catalog has pictures and stories about the people who live in Habitat houses and what a difference these houses have made in their lives. In 23 years, Habitat for Humanity has put rooves over the heads of 80,000 families.
Days are short and nights are cold this time of year; it’s no surprise the Christmas story begins with a poor family looking for a place to stay.
Who Should Get What
I’ve got a stack of catalogs on the floor beside my desk. They’ve been coming for months, but a few weeks ago, I thought instead of recycling them immediately, I’d make a stack beside my desk – not that I need another one of those – but to see if I could detect some sort of pattern.
There’s L.L. Bean, Land’s End, Chadwick’s, Winter Silks, Herrington – it bills itself as “the Enthusiast’s Catalog,” but it didn’t do much for me – Real Goods, Sierra Trading Post, L.L. Bean again, Coldwater Creek, Harry and David, the Daily Planet, the Company Store – I always thought the connotation to the “company store” was extraordinarily overpriced goods, and they are – Williams-Sonoma, L.L. Bean AGAIN, Land’s End again, this one with a “mystery Santa” who is obviously Larry Bird, Hammacher Schlemmer, the Sharper Image – how DO we get on these lists? – Bed, Bath and Beyond – do you really want a toilet brush for Christmas? – Harmony, the Writers Store and Wind and Weather, which we actually get for free here in Vermont.
But where is Victoria’s Secret? – the catalog that is a gift in itself. How did we wind up with Hammacher Schlemmer and Harry and David, but we’re dropped from Victoria’s Secret? About five years ago, I was quoted by the Associated Press as saying it wasn’t worth cutting down old-growth trees to print Victoria’s Secret catalogs and so I suppose this is payback time. Talk about holding a grudge.
Aside from the daily onslaught of catalogs, this is the time of year when phone calls come and go among extended family members to decide who should get what for Christmas. There are certain similar elements to these calls – long silences and exasperated sighing. Then there’s the script, with lines like, “Wow – y’know, I really don’t know what she wants…” or “Gee, he certainly doesn’t need anything…”
What’s going on here? Are we such strangers from our nuclear families that parents don’t know what children want for Christmas? No, I don’t think that’s it – I think what’s really at work here is that we have so much stuff already, we have acquired and acquired so much stuff that we’re drowning in it and the thought of acquiring more stuff – even as gifts – is enough to make us anxious and restless.
One day, in the middle of all this, I’m lugging another batch of catalogs in from the mailbox and I notice one is from Habitat for Humanity. “Oh nuts,” I thought. “Is no one immune from the catalog frenzy?”
The Habitat catalog was different. There was nothing in it that I or anyone in my extended family wants or needs. It was full of things needed by people I’ve never met. For example, $20 buys a 50-pound box of nails to be used on a Habitat house, or for $200, you can buy enough nails for the whole house. For $50 you can buy a kitchen sink or for $1,300 you can buy plumbing for the whole house. The list goes on and on, but you get the picture.
The houses are built by volunteers and by the people who will someday live in them. The catalog has pictures and stories about the people who live in Habitat houses and what a difference these houses have made in their lives. In 23 years, Habitat for Humanity has put rooves over the heads of 80,000 families.
Days are short and nights are cold this time of year; it’s no surprise the Christmas story begins with a poor family looking for a place to stay.