The speaker described the history of the concept of "leisure" and pointed out that in the early part of the last century big business had worked to "sell" the public on consumerism, and the frenetic work-pace needed to sustain it, where workers had been inclined to value time they did not have to spend making money.

I wondered about Max Weber's contention in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism that an influential strain in American culture has always prized work for its own sake, that a real moral taint has existed about "idle time" in the public consciousness, for reasons that stem from religious belief. The task of capitalism in America, then, has not been the creation of the work ethic, but its co-option.

I am not deeply into the voluntary simplicity movement, but I gather its promoters would agree that work for its own sake can exist independently of work for the purpose of making money. This distinction is acknowledged in cultural lore, in the phrase "labor of love." The movement encourages "slowing down" and learning to value "just hanging out," though I suspect "labor of love," where "voluntary simplicity" is concerned, isn't incompatible with "leisure."

To change gears a bit, a crucial event a few years ago got me thinking about unchecked consumerism. This was well before I'd had anything at all to do with "voluntary simplicity."

The epiphany I'm talking about had nothing to do with Christmas. Many people recognize that holiday gift-giving has long been completely amok in this culture. I'd announced a few years ago to anyone who might want to give me a Christmas gift to make a donation to charity in my name, instead. What a blessed relief.

A few years ago, a relative announced her marriage plans. This was during a period when I wasn't working. Both the bride and her husband-to-be had good careers. I selected a nice gift from the bridal registry and planned to have it sent, or present it at the wedding, as you normally do. Then I was invited to an "engagement shower," held by another relative. My heart fell. We were to be dunned for gifts again.

Was the "shower gift" always distinct from the "wedding gift"? Or was this second obligation for friends and family, as I suspected, another manifestation of the ugly, impersonal creep of the consumerist ethic through the culture? OK, maybe the second gift could be partly justified by the bridal couple's purchase of a new home. All the same, I chose to let a single gift suffice as token of my good wishes for the couple.

It's a good thing I arrived at the shower early. I got the chance to pay my respects to the bridal couple and others. Then, right before the gift-unwrapping, I politely excused myself, thinking at some point I'd spend a few hours babysitting their first-born child. Several people noticed my exit. I garnered a few dirty looks.

But maybe I planted a few seeds.
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