Original views on life from rural America

“I don’t need stress; I need my shopping bag. It’s almost Black Friday.”

Um, I’ve never uttered those words, much alone given day-after-Thanksgiving sales a lot of thought.

I’ve gone shopping on Black Friday a handful of times. The first time was nearly 25 years ago. The Menards sales ad listed several great deals and our family decided we needed a certain item from the circular.

What item? I don’t remember. I’m sure it was some insignificant piece of plastic made outside of the USA, but hey, the price was obviously right.

So, I did what any shopper who likes avoiding crowds does. I caved. I allowed them to guilt me into going.

In the middle of the night, I hopped in the family van, drove to Norfolk and stood in line for what seemed like an eternity. More likely, it was only an hour. If I remember right, the temperature dipped below zero that early morning and a coat of snow blanketed the ground. By the time I arrived - after a stop for convenience store hot cocoa - the line extended around the side of the building.

This was pre-cell phone times, so instead of being preoccupied with Words With Friends or scrolling social media, the choices were simple: Either be quiet or talk to the other shoppers who, like me, wished they would have stayed home.

By the time I snaked my way around the store, searching for the place where said item should have been, I was greeted by an abyss of shelving, sans said item. After seeking out a sales associate, I learned only 100 of said item were available for sale. With my luck, I was probably the 101st customer wanting to make the purchase.

I wasn’t about to give up. Not after leaving the comfort of my warm king-size bed. Not after hearing my kids tell me they didn’t want to go shopping. Not after being naive enough to think I would actually enjoy an early-morning shopping spree.

I would take home some fantastic Black Friday purchase and all would be well with the world. I roamed the aisles of the super lumber yard, hoping something would catch my eye.

After several laps, I found a treasure and vowed to give it a good home. That Mr. Food five-piece red stoneware baking set made perfect sense - and the perfect present - for myself. Seriously, I didn’t see any other family member trek to Norfolk with me or brave the throngs of rabid shoppers, so Merry Christmas to me.

This year, you won’t find me standing in line to purchase holiday gifts. I may, however, be up and at ‘em by 6:30, ready to tailgate at the last home Husker football game.

Sending Thanksgiving blessings to all of you.