Tiny little tipping points

December 30, 2025. Yesterday I trekked to Target in Hanover, trying to outrun the bitterly cold weather that was bearing down on us. It’s my once-monthly Target run, picking up canned goods and paper products for the next four weeks.

Turns out, I wasn’t the only person trying to outrun the weather. The place was crazy busy at 5:30 in the afternoon. Clearance racks had already been picked clean over the weekend. These were people stocking up as we Americans tend to do in advance of weather.

When I went to check out, I saw Mikey was on duty. Yea! He's always so delightful, so cheery! As usual, Mikey and the fellow checking out in front of me were having a grand olde time. The man had a preteen boy with him. He explained to the youngster about Mikey’s hearing issues and encouraged him to talk with Mikey. That did my heart so much good.

As I unloaded my basket, I realized that the line snaked very long behind me. The Team Lead had seen the same thing and called all available resources to the front. In less than three minutes, there were four registers open. Customers stood three deep in every single line.

I grinned at the Team Lead and mentioned I was surprised how busy they were. He smiled back and pointed over to self-check. “I don’t believe it. All the self-checkouts are empty. All of them! And people are standing in line instead.”

Sure enough! The family behind me looked to be a dad with three high school age daughters. Between the four of them, they had six or seven items, all little. They were not in a hurry. Sipping on Starbuck lattes, chatting, enjoying the moment together.

I nearly teared up. Far too long we’ve been a hurry-hurry-hurry society. Suddenly on this last Monday in December 2025, families are choosing to wait and talk instead of trampling over one another for the fastest lane, the quickest option.

I told the girls that if they would just add Nutella to their checkout items, Mikey would be their friend for life. The laughter was easy, unforced, Mikey joining in since I’d waited until he was facing me to say that.

As I left, self-checkout was still empty, not a single person emptying a basket and scanning themselves. Everyone waited for a human being, for a person who smiled at them and carefully bagged their precious purchases.

Driving home in the dark, I realized that I was seeing this tiny little tipping point in other ways and spheres of being. Last year and the year before, it seemed that people attempted to one-up their neighbors with garish lights and decorations. This year? Half the houses had no lights. The ones that did kept it simple, maybe white lights wrapped around their banister.

To be sure, part of it has to do with the economy. Frugality is not just in fashion, it’s a necessity. But lights and ornaments and blowup lawn decorations carry over from year to year. Families chose not to put them out.

There’s more of the non-holiday Pennsylvania tradition of candles in the window, these days battery-operated, of course. Simpler. Digging deeper for local ritual.

Our community extended the new Thanksgiving practice of providing holiday meals for those who could not afford one, or who would otherwise be alone. A pizza place in town stayed open the afternoon of Christmas Eve, handing out free pizzas to people who could not afford a meal.

I am seeing this on social media as well, on LinkedIn, even (amazing) on Facebook. Individuals braving the cold to get out and put one foot after another under wintry skies. Walking dogs despite frigid temps. Taking toddlers to parks and gardens. Unapologetically signing off to be with family and friends. Touching trees and rocks and icy streams.

Businesses in town posted last minute notices, You know what? You can live without us, but we cannot live without family. See you January 4! Bloggers going silent.

The ragebaiters are still around, but I have muted them. Not just for the rest of 2025. For good. Even the ones I agree with. There’s too much anger and bloviating and loud noise online. I am going to do what I can to minimize their impact on my life. Not blocking them. Muting them. If they too wake up to the toxic environment they’re creating and start writing civilly, I’ll return.

But not until.

I don’t know if what I am seeing is a tiny little tipping point or two or three. If these seemingly random things signify a wider movement back towards rational thought. Or if I am getting my hopes up for nothing.

For now, I am keeping my eyes open, wishing that the self-checkout lines stay empty and we persist in reconnecting with people around us. Sipping our coffee and laughing with our family.

PS: The Atlantic recently featured an article that stated exactly the opposite (gift article, no paywall): The One Line Americans (Weirdly) Choose to Wait In—Grocery self-checkout lines are now often longer than the staffed ones. Hmmm…

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