Yesterday our American friends celebrated Thanksgiving, and I celebrated—in my heart—with them. Today our American friends have the “day after Thanksgiving,” which has become known as Black Friday, for some reason. I celebrate this day—in my heart—with them again.
But little by little, incrementally, in a way that makes me tilt my head in confusion, Black Friday has been creeping north of the border to live outside of our hearts—in our big box stores and shopping malls. Why? There’s no good reason for Canadians to be doing anything special today. It’s a day like any other. There’s no colour needed here.
I look around me for the colours of my day.
I have a yellow happy face frisbee that hangs on the wall behind my desk because it makes me happy; perhaps it’s a yellow day for me. The frisbee hangs over my modest collection of orange and black tigers (a minor obsession); orange and black would power my day beautifully.
We had a major snowstorm here this week, so outside my window is a white world; maybe white should be my colour of the day.
I baked cookies for our church bazaar tomorrow, and I have plates of blue, green and pink ready to drop off later; are those today’s colours?
Speaking of the bazaar, I’ll find plenty of Christmas red and green there; I could adopt red and green for the day.
But then, I’m wearing purple pajamas as I write this and I love purple; I would be really happy with a purple day.
But I still can’t seem to find any black in my day. Oh, wait a minute. It’s recycling day in my neighbourhood. I put out our black box this morning.
Ah ha! It is Black Friday after all.
I suggest you read Kate Heartfield’s column on Black Friday, from today’s Ottawa Citizen. http://www.ottawacitizen.com/business/Black+Friday+invented/9224792/story.html