Sunday, December 30, 2018

When the ball drops in NYC

Even though I live in Illinois, when the ball drops in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, I’m happy to start singing Auld Lang Syne, toast with my glass of champagne, wish everyone a Happy New Year and call it an evening. Perhaps it’s because I’m seventy and 11 p.m. Central is past my bedtime. Perhaps it’s because I grew up in Buffalo and by body is still synced to being an hour ahead of where I am physically. 

That second thought helped me realize there are some other subtle leftovers from my childhood. Things like the feeling that something is about to start that accompanies the arrival of Labor Day, since that’s when the school year began. Or still being surprised that stores are open on Sundays, even when I might be annoyed that they don’t open until Noon. 

And, speaking of Sundays, the fun of the thick Sunday newspaper with its Comics section, Parade, and special inserts. Of quiet family time as each of us sat in the living room handing off sections of the paper. While better for the environment, reading online is just not the same. This Sunday’s paper featured photojournalism of the past year and I reflected on cameras. Just last Friday the camera on my phone stopped working and I thought of the long gone days of having to go into a closet or dark space to change a roll of film.

Each of those nostalgic thoughts involved waiting. The countdown to midnight. The anticipation of the start of a new grade. Of waiting a week for pictures to be developed. Tonight we turn the page on the calendar from 2018 to 2019 and it seems we all are in a time of waiting. Waiting for things to change, to get better. New Year’s resolutions involve some type of change. Perhaps a resolution could be about committing to something that makes me - us - part of a catalyst for the change we want the most.

Wishing you a happy and prosperous New Year!
Marilyn

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