Somebody recently commented that the Thanksgiving holiday has come to repesent for him the day when everyone "goes to DEFCON 1," as if they were bracing themselves for a disaster.

Indeed,  the holiday that began with a feast to give thanks for a bountiful harvest has become a day now noted mostly as the prelude to a month of conspicuous consumption, at the end of which retailers hope they will be giving thanks for all the sales they have made.  For many, Thanksgiving represents little more than a day heralding an orgy of shopping when we consume as much as, or more than, we can afford. 

Indeed, the chief tradition of Thanksgiving Day itself is consumption.  One is supposed to consume as much food as possible – not to give thanks for a bountiful harvest but to fatten oneself up for the rigors of the season of spending that will follow.  We need all the strength we can get to endure the long marches from the distant reaches of the parking lot, to maneuver among the hordes of other shoppers intent upon elbowing their way to the bargain counter, to search for this year's talking and dancing dinosaur or whatever has become the season's "must-have" toy.

Apart from the feasting and the pilgrimage to Grandma's house, Thanksgiving has lost its identity as a distinct celebration.  The feasting will probably be punctuated by conversation about what we and others plan to do in the coming weeks (or what everyone wants for Christmas) rather than about what we already have to be thankful for.  In today's mobile society, much of the day is likely to be devoted to getting to and returning from Grandma's – excursions on which the only way to maintain peace among the children is to threaten them with drastic action by Santa if they don't behave.  November isn't over yet, but we and they are already deep into December.

Of course, treating Thanksgiving as the kickoff for Christmas shopping is nothing new.  Indeed, in the 1940s, when President Franklin D. Roosevelt first proclaimed a day in November to be a permanent national day of thanksgiving (originally the third Thursday but later moved to the fourth), a stated reason was to stimulate the economy by extending the holiday shopping season.  However, we have expanded the original time frame so that Thanksgiving now stands in the midst of holiday shopping and is eclipsed by it.

There's little point in lamenting the commercialization of Christmas.  It has become a permanent part of our culture, and our economy depends on it.  The benefits that we derive from a healthy economy during the rest of the year would diminish dramatically if sales were stagnant in December.  We might even argue that, since this emphasis on getting stuff reflects no small amount of giving, it's a good thing, as long as we don't let the stuff obliterate the spirit of the season (which, admittedly, we often do).

Nevertheless, it's a shame that Thanksgiving itself is like the wallflower at the holiday dance, largely ignored while everyone dances the Christmas jig.  A day of giving thanks for what we have – and perhaps for some quiet reflection – is certainly healthy and helpful before, or in the midst of, our orgy of consumption.  It might even help us to focus more on the spirit of Christmas and less on the stuff that goes with it.

A few years ago, an acquaintance told me that, from before Thanksgiving until Christmas, he was a madman, vacillating between depression and hyperactivity as he prepared for the Big Day.  Having often been in this state myself, I suggested that he try to enjoy the preparations for their own sake and let the outcome take care of itself.  I also suggested that he take time out daily, and especially on Thanksgiving weekend, to put everything in perspective.  A couple of years later, he thanked me for my advice.  I have to admit, however, that I'm not very good at practicing what I preach.

Normally, I believe that the most serene path to follow is to "go with the flow," but the flow of the holidays is too frantic to be serene.  It's more like a traffic jam, and I often find myself caught in it because I try to do what everyone else seems to be doing and to go where everyone else seems to be going.

Still, by observing Thanksgiving as a day of rest and reflection, I seem to be less inclined to buy into the mass hysteria that inevitably follows it.  If possible, I don't go anywhere on Thanksgiving, and I tell other people not to visit me.  I will peruse the Black Friday sales offers in the bulging Thanksgiving Day newspaper and then try to remember the last time I went shopping on Black Friday, bucking crowds to discover that all the sale items on my list had already been snatched up.  I'm better off if I've already bought nearly everything that I need to get, and I can spend Black Friday at home putting the final touches on home-made gifts and cards.  Perhaps we tidy the house, and, when that is complete, dig out the holiday decorations.  There's joy in that, and I can proceed at my own pace and not feel driven along by the herd.

We need to regard Thanksgiving as a day in its own right, as an opportunity to look back, with gratitude, upon the gifts we have received rather than as a day to prepare for accumulating more stuff.  If we look around us and realize that we already have everything we need and are grateful for it, we feel less compelled to go out looking for more.  In this mental and spiritual state, we can revel in the peace, beauty, and wonder of the season.