New Years Day is somewhat sad and wistful. One can look back to a year wasted or eventful, productive or dull. The optimist in me says "never look back - what is done is done" and the realist...well the realist has quite a different view.
When my dad was alive and retired to the deep south and by chance I visited, we always got up at the crack of dawn and played golf on New Year's Day, no matter the weather or how much celebrating the night before. The score didn't really matter (although of course it did). It was being out doing something that both of us loved to do. Neither of us can pursue our New Year's ritual, he being gone for 15 years and I'm with certainty, on my way.
He was born in 1910, so this would have been his 105th year. I got to thinking about that and stuff like that over the holidays as I don’t have many of his things and certainly nothing from his youth. I
I do remember that when I graduated from high school he was 55 and his birth was exactly mid-way between that date and the end of the civil war which seems like ancient history to many of us. Actually his grandfather was an illustrator of battlefield scenes and was at Gettysburg...just one story that popped out.
I was at a gathering last night for a short while before my little affliction took hold and exhaustionenergy-wise so I have even given up ghost writing for others. It seemed to me that now I write because I have very little in my memory-shoe-box and a memory that is going to pot in a hurry.
My resolution is to not only make sure my granddaughters have what little bits of things I might pass on to put in their shoebox and a blog full of stories that can go along with mle. It helps on New Year's Day mornings to resolve to do stuff like that, especially when you miss someone and wish that he had written it all down.