(LifeSiteNews) — I’m not American, but I observe two traditions for American Thanksgiving.
First, I make a pumpkin pie for an American friend, an old bachelor in Edinburgh who doesn’t bake. Second, I try to dissuade people from shopping on Black Friday.
I am not alone in this endeavor: there is a host of talented people preaching against consumerism and for either minimalism or financial realism. They include such figures as minimalist Joshua Becker and financial advisor Dave Ramsay.
But this so-called Black Friday I have to admit that the McLean household has profited from extended Black Friday sales. This month our twenty-year-old washing machine broke irreparably and our equally venerable microwave oven burst into flames. In addition, my husband’s cellphone (a basic “dumbphone”) ceased to charge up. Our local department store offered a Black Friday “price match” for both the washer and the oven, and so we saved a few quid. The dumbphone cost only £25 ($33) to replace. But much more important than the sales was our topped-up emergency fund.
Ten years ago, the simultaneous death of two household appliances and a phone would have been a financial calamity. Neither McLean was good with money and lived from paycheck to paycheck in blissful ignorance of what the future held. As it happened, it presented cancer to my husband and made a wake-up call to me. When I heard fate’s voice on the line, I got serious about the household finances.
How did I do that? First, I got a full-time job. Second, we paid off our debts. Third, we started saving toward an emergency fund. Fourth, I began to write down every penny we spent. For three months, I just wrote down all our costs, and afterward I created a budget based on our outgoings.
A recent CNBC article illustrates that U.S. consumers belonging to Generation X (like us) have an average debt of $68,038, not including mortgages. Of that debt, $9,557 belongs to credit card companies, and $27,602 are car loans.
According to Experian, the average interest on car loans is 6.73 percent for a new one and 11.87 percent for a used. But if that weren’t alarming enough, Investopedia says that the “median credit card interest rate for August 2025 [was] 23.99 percent.” (It’s similar in the U.K.) If you had the Gen X $9,557 credit card debt, and paid only 1 percent of the balance (plus interest) every month, your bill would include $2,200–$2,300 of interest by the end of the year.
Ten years ago, I would have dealt with such unpleasant realities by thinking about something else – perhaps a fun trip to the shops. But ten years ago, my husband was still clambering up and down the Lomond Hills like a Scottish Blackface ewe. Now he’s in a wheelchair, so I don’t have that luxury, if luxury it be.
I can think of things much more luxurious than consumer debt, and my favorite is peace of mind. I am the happy possessor of such tranquility when it comes to household finances because of our emergency fund. And, let me tell you, emergencies more expensive than a fire in the microwave have indeed happened to Mr and Mrs McL. It is worth any number of shopping sprees to be able to replace a shed, repair a roof, or order a disabled-accessible bathroom without crying or complaint. When disaster rushes thirstily upon us, slurping up the fund, we slowly fill up the tank again, month by month.
Naturally, there’s a reason for the expression “retail therapy.” Buying a new outfit or new shoes always gives me a lift, and I can think of any number of items that would improve our “quality of life.” However, I have learned from trial and error that the happiness that comes from experiences – especially experiences kept deliberately rare, like restaurant meals – lasts longer than the contentment attached to possessing new things. Also, I get the same lift from moving money from our checking account into savings. Could it be that much of the thrill of shopping belongs just to moving money from Point A to Point B?
A minimalist approach to householding is also very attractive. First, an absence of clutter also creates peace of mind. A closet into which clothes can be hung instead of squashed is another underrated luxury. A kitchen drawer with only one potato masher is easier to open than one with two. A shed so empty that you can drive an electric wheelchair into it without crashing into anything is similarly restful. The undoubted spiritual joys put aside, I think cloistered monks and nuns are onto something psychological with their adherence to a bare minimum of stuff. Not to sound like the World Economic Forum, but they own (almost) nothing, and they’re happy.
Black Friday, like Boxing Day, Boxing Week, and Boxing Month, cannot supply peace of mind. Unless you go to the stores with iron-clad determination to replace only a broken household necessity, you risk being lured into trading good money, and houseroom, for relatively worthless stuff. You may also find yourself competing with your fellow men and women for bargains – or parking spaces – with increasing agitation. To me, that’s a very poor exchange for a tranquil heart.
