Material Without Being Real

"A new world, material without being real"(Fitzgerald 161) appears in the overcrowded malls, the lines in front of Coach, Apple, and Best Buy on the eve of a day of thankfulness. "Real" happiness cannot be bought from the sale of the year down the street, or even the turkey at a family feast, but instead can be encountered meandering the night sky, hopping from star to star, if only you would stop...and look...up. It can be solicited from a smile at the universe in all its grandeur, without all the marketing fiasco blocking the stars from view. The universe gives no assurances, it is not, "a wish-granting factory," (John Green) but it would like some little appreciation, at least once a year. All this wealth does not equal happiness, much as the Macy's commercials disagree. Money can't buy love after all, as Gatsby's empty funeral more than emphasized. No matter the wealth, the silky shirts shipped from Europe, the booze, or the mansion of mansions, none of this is as crucial to living a fulfilling life as society has ingrained that it is. Thanks should not be given for your new iPhone, but for the health of your mother, the idle days of summer, and the laughter that leaves your liver where you stomach should be and your jaw near broken.