That New Year’s Feeling
It’s no secret that when it comes to New Year’s Eve, I’d rather Just Say No. When that ball starts to drop at Times Square, I’m not thinking as much about “Auld Lang Syne” as about the sad fact that I’m about to throw away yet another calendar because, yes, another year has passed and I’m ever-closer to that dreaded finish line.
Now, I’m not a big drinker, but I think I understand why some folks go out of their way to – in the vernacular – get smashed on New Year’s Eve. It’s their way of saying “bye-bye” to a year that likely didn’t go “their way” – or the way they think their lives – or the lives of their kids – or the life of their country – should have gone.
Sure. I get it. I often feel the same way. And I’m not alone. That guy Shakespeare – a pretty darn good writer, we’d all agree — penned that at New Year’s, “I summon up remembrance of things past/I sigh the lack of many things I sought.” I get you, Billy boy.
Not to be outdone, those darn Victorians could summon a mighty batch of gloom and doom at New Year’s. The poet Walter Savage Landor wrote about his New Year’s misery: “I wait its close, I court its gloom.” Whoo, boy. Get that man a Valium, and hurry.
Fortunately, that rather famous author Charles Dickens provided a written antidote to New Year’s gloom and doom – a delightful seasonal tale called “The Chimes,” in which a guy with the crazy name of Trotty Veck takes stock of his life on New Year’s Eve and decides he’s been nothing but a burden on society. But before he can take drastic steps against himself, the spirits of church bells intervene – showing him a vision of what would happen to the people he loves if he were gone.
Sound familiar? Yep – that story seems a whole lot like that absolutely magnificent Frank Capra flick, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” with Jimmy Stewart starring as George Bailey, who finds out, before it’s too late, that “No man is a failure who has friends.” So there, New Year’s gloom and doom – begone!
Another thing that ought to “begone” is our practice of making New Year’s resolutions and New Year’s predictions. In both cases, practice does NOT make perfect. First, the predictions. They’re all either garbage – or so easy to “predict” that even you or I could do it.
Don’t believe it? How about this: No matter who wins our upcoming presidential race, half the country will hate the winner. And how about this: Yes, bad people will do bad things somewhere around our country or the world this year. And here in our small piece of California’s Central Coast — yes, I know I’m really going out on a limb here – someone will complain about either speeders – or parking problems – or the sound their neighbors’ wind chimes make.
As for New Year’s resolutions – well, I can make this quick: If you make them, odds are, you’ll give them up by the end of January. Sorry. It’s just true.
And then there’s that problem I mentioned at the top of this merry missive – having to throw away a perfectly good calendar. I mean, it seems like such a shame to toss out a calendar that’s a beautifully made piece of art just because 2019 turns into 2020.
Take my very own beautifully made piece of art – my 2019 calendar. It’s produced by the good folks who publish “Our Iowa” magazine, and it features absolutely gorgeous, giant photos of Iowa’s beauty. Last January, for example, the photo was of a red barn converted into a cabin, surrounded by snow on a sunny day. Lovely, indeed.
April’s equally lovely photo was of a quintessential Iowa scene in springtime: a recently planted field with the crop just emerging, a red barn in the distance with a silo beside it, and a two-story, white farmhouse. July featured a giant photo of a horse grazing in a gorgeous green field, with the rising (or setting) sun just over the horizon behind the animal.
And October’s picture was the type of autumn scene every Midwesterner lives for. It’s shot from the side of a two-lane road that heads downhill and curves to the left, with row after row of trees on both sides, every tree full of golden or crimson-colored leaves. And, oh, yes – there’s the ever-present red barn with its white roof off in the distance, down the hill. Spectacular.
And my 2019 calendar has more, much more. In addition to notations that every calendar has – the first days of the seasons, the nights of the full moons – this particular calendar has little-known facts about, yes, Iowa. For example, the Jan. 11 “box” notes that this was the date of the lowest-ever recorded temperature in Iowa – 47 below zero, way back in 1912 in the village of Washta.
May 15 featured a note that Christian Kent Nelson invented the Eskimo Pie in Onawa, Iowa, on that day in 1920. A very great man, indeed. And on July 18, the note is that Harriet Nelson – yes, Ozzie’s future wife – was born on that day as Harriet Louise Snyder in 1909 in Des Moines. And did you know that on Oct. 23, Johnny “Tonight Show” Carson was born in 1925 in Corning, Iowa?
But there’s even more in this great, great calendar –one or two sayings each month that could change your life or your outlook. One of January’s sayings (in the box for the 16th) is: “If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.” On May 7, the saying is: “The world’s favorite season is spring. All things seem possible in May.” They really do, don’t they? And December’s saying: “Christmas is a race to see which gives out first – your money or your feet.”
You can see why I’m reluctant to give up this year’s calendar. I know, I know – the 2020 edition will have equally beautiful pictures, more life-changing sayings – and more “only in Iowa” notations. But there’s one more – and maybe the most important – reason why I don’t want to throw out the 2019 edition. The reason, dear friend, is that the 2020 version has a certain date in March – the day I was born. And that day in 2020 will be the one that I turn old enough to be in yet another category of “old age.” I mean – really old.
Keeping the 2019 calendar may not keep me any younger – in fact, I’m fairly certain it won’t. But I’m sure that looking at my birthday on that calendar makes me feel younger than looking at my birthday on the 2020 calendar will. And at our age – I figure anything that makes us feel good – is good. Happy New Year, to you, to me, and even to Trotty Veck, if he’s now living in Our Neck of the Woods.