I spent Thanksgiving Day a year ago in Houston. That evening, two of my granddaughters — Sarah, 16, and Erin, 15, — drove past their local mall and seeing lines forming for Black Friday sales that were to begin at midnight, decided they should be part of that experience.
They returned home and donned warm coats, hats and gloves. Loaded down with charged mobile phones, folding chairs, snacks, a thermos of hot chocolate and bottles of water, they made their way to one of the stores to get in line.
They witnessed one near fight when a pregnant woman with her family tried to cut in line saying she needed to be first because she would have to go to the bathroom as soon as the doors opened.
Sarah and Erin said they would have let her go ahead of them, but the people at the front of the line were having none of it. Some shoving and name calling ensued before security guards intervened.
When the doors opened, they made their way inside and witnessed people fighting for bargains, another new experience. Although they only spent a few dollars, they were quite proud of being Black Friday veterans.
I was proud of them for having the adventure and proud of their parents for encouraging taking a risk at something never tried before.