I want to share this with you all, it is from the FB page of the Bangor ME Police Dept. If you don't follow them, you should. Some of the best writing on the internet. Bolding is by me.
"Pump the brakes, Blitzen. It won't be over until the fat man sings.
The most common question I heard around the halls and stairwells of BPD today was, "Do you have your shopping done yet?" Not one sorry soul said, "yes."
I had to answer in the negative as well. I am not even the least bit concerned. If I don't finish by Sunday, no one will give two Hershey's kisses or a squirt of peppermint.
Stuffing a stocking runs between 30 and 60 bucks and that's only accomplished by purchasing some Grapefruit or bowling balls to stuff in the toe. Does it matter? It really shouldn't.
We all say, it's for the kids, but is it? If it was, I think the stress levels would drop like the thermometer in Fairbanks in January.
When I was a kid, I can remember some great Christmas gatherings each year. One at Grammie's, one at Nana and Grampas, and one at our own house. As time flows on, and it does, I cannot recall but a few gifts. I do remember conversations, laughter, music, and the requisite Kodak slide show sometime in the evening.
I remember wet, winter boots by the door and socks skidding across the kitchen floor when my grandfather made us maple syrup ice cream sundaes. I remember turkey sandwiches while we were sitting cross legged on the living room floor while the family dogs tried to take their fair share of crumbs. They got plenty.
I remember my cousins, my sisters, aunts and uncles, and mom and dad. Frost on the windows and white, tight, starched sheets with impeccable hospital corners on a cot in the living room. Nana could make a bed that you had to slide yourself into like a letter in a tight envelope. Getting out was even more difficult because I felt warm. Safe.
If you are heading to the mall to pick up one last thing, turn around. That one last thing will not matter in 30 years. Not even a little.
Crank up the Christmas music, write a note to each of your kids. Watch a movie and make popcorn on top of the stove. Even if you burn it a little, the flavor will be a memory your kids will remember forever.
Stuff doesn't make us happy. It never will.
Memories, people, hugs, and the slap of an old dog's tail. That's the stuff they don't have at the mall. You will never have to exchange it. "
PS- Pay off a debt, that is my vote.
