It was the Cabbage Patch Kid frenzy of ’83 and parents had lost their dang minds. I was a young mother and didn’t think my 6-month-old daughter needed the trendy toy of the year, but watching crowds of people attack each other over a doll was inconceivable.

TV news showed Black Friday sales where hundreds of loving parents trampled their friends and neighbors to get one of the elusive Cabbage Patch dolls. I understand wanting to find the perfect present, but having mom arrested the day after Thanksgiving because she shot a store employee with a crossbow doesn’t exactly ring in the holidays. 

Each year brought a new toy so necessary and valuable that people went shopping armed with baseball bats and pepper spray to ensure they got the Furby, Beanie Babies, Tickle Me Elmo or Teddy Ruxpin for their child who already had too many toys. 

Shoppers expected riots, looting, broken bones and black eyes for every Black Friday sale. News reporters showed videos of chaos, pandemonium and anarchy. If you didn’t get a concussion while saving on bath towels, was it even Black Friday?

I didn’t often participate in Black Friday, although I once waited outside Toys R Us at 5 a.m., in freezing temperatures, to save $50 on a Barbie Dreamhouse. My early-morning shopping adventures ended when a full-grown adult stole my 8-year-old daughter’s promotional football at Mervyn’s. 

If I wanted to experience holiday anxiety, panic and frustration, I didn’t need to shop the Black Friday sales. I could feel all that stress in the comfort of my own home. But now, if there was a Black Friday sale on gas, gluten-free cake mixes or bags of dog food. I’d definitely get up at 4 a.m.

Today, Black Friday just isn’t the same. Instead of waiting in line for hours while your toes freeze, people just turn on their phones and cybershop until their fingers bleed. There’s no frenzy, bedlam, fracas, turmoil or mayhem. Not even a hullabaloo. Just scrolling and clicking. Like every other day.

Americans are a wacky bunch. We spend Thanksgiving Day offering appreciation for our abundance and then eat until our livers explode. By midnight, gratitude is over and it’s time to spend until our credit cards warp. Within hours of Thanksgiving dinner, we’re in combat-mode, ready for holiday shopping. 

It’s so on-brand for Americans. 

Buddhists teach about a realm of hungry ghosts who have large stomachs but tiny mouths. They are tormented by unrelenting cravings that can never be satisfied. A student once asked Buddhist teacher and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh, “What is it like in the realm of hungry ghosts?” he answered, “America.” 

Ouch. But accurate. 

Because it’s not just Black Friday anymore. It’s Small Business Saturday, Shell Out Sunday, Cyber Monday, Take-All-My-Money Tuesday and What-Did-I-Even-Buy Wednesday. Social media platforms taunt us with shiny items that might ease the relentless craving for more. But only for a moment. 

Back in 1983, I never imagined how the world would change in 40 years. I thought we’d go on beating each other up for toys until the end of time. I never dreamed we’d be buying holiday gifts online, watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on our phones or hanging Christmas lights that could be controlled through an app. 

I probably wondered if we’d ever learn that violence isn’t the best way to start the holiday season. Especially a holiday with the catchphrase, “Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men.” 

Let’s face it, holiday shopping will always be a jungle. Speaking of jungles, what’s on sale at Amazon?