Tomorrow is the beginning of a new year, a new decade, although some dispute that. Let’s just say that the year is new, whether 1990 is the last year of the ninth decade of this century or the first year of the 10th.
Maybe this year will be what we thought the last one would be, full of sunshine and garlands, bird song and music. For you, I wish you the best year you’ve had in a long time.
The remarkable thing about our species is that we hope even in the face of towering odds. We hope that hate will wane and that friendship of people and countries will bring us warmth.
Do I just imagine it or did things used to be easier to face? Could we disagree with someone without hating them or am I just maundering down old paths?
Tomorrow, may you say as we do every year, “Well, that was the best Tournament of Roses I have ever seen.” May the princesses of the court and the queen have happy memories for the rest of their lives and may they take joy in the fact that they were the best, the fairest, the finest citizens and that there was more to it than a closet full of matching outfits.
May rain come soon, soft, nurturing rain.
And may the rain be followed by a soft spring full of pink dawns and meadowlarks.
And when summer comes, may you spend it at the beach, in the mountains or, at least, somewhere with a stable government.
May summer be filled with sand and sun and picnics, windsurfing or simply swinging in a hammock, whatever pleases you.
May the barbecue continue to turn out enticing steaks and fish and chicken and may someone decide that barbecued meats are not going to kill us.
(Although, I would feel better if they could patch that hole in the ozone. And have you made your plans for the onset of the killer bees?)
May summer be full of laughter and hot dogs, puppies and graduations.
May autumn come in cool and clear without those lingering hot smoggy days just when the kids want to go back to school wearing their new scratchy wool sweaters.
And may winter be clear and crisp with the holiday season rich with friendship, and surely this will be the year you’ll be ready for it.
I finally stopped sending Christmas cards today but I felt I wanted to catch everyone I ever knew because of my unlikely move to the desert.
Maybe by this time next year, the last box will be unpacked and the last picture up. And I must remember that it is not necessary to put up the picture of that lady in the antebellum hoop skirt even though she is a forebear of my husband, Doug.
Happy New Year, everyone, joy and laughter, camaraderie and a toast, and may you be with those you love the most when that silly ball drops in Time Square.
May this be the finest year you’ve known in a long time and don’t return the stuff that doesn’t fit until day after tomorrow.
Leave the tree up until the Feast of the Epiphany on Saturday, which marks when the three kings came over the sand dunes bringing gold, frankincense and myrrh.
You worked so hard on the tree, enjoy it. Although I do think a lady Tim used to ride horseback with when he was 7 may have gone too far. She kept her tree up all year long. But then, she also kept her horse in her dining room.