December 31, 1964
Hap-py New Year!
I had a great time. (I also got $5.00.) Y’know I bet that if I ever went to a New Year’s Eve Party I’d be the only one at 12 to be bawling my eyes out. H called twice and we talked for a total of 2 hours. M called twice and we talked for 20 minutes. I listened to the radio for 1 1/2 hours and watched T.V. for 40 minutes. That adds up to 4 1/2 hours. What happened to the other 2 1/2 I spent there. Who cares? It’s 1965 now and I’m going to make the best of it. Goodbye 1964. You were good - while you lasted.
December 31, 2022
Another holiday, another night sitting at the O’s house. It amazes me I got away with being on the phone while I was on the job. This was the era of one phone line per house, no call waiting, no answering machine. Tying up the phone while babysitting was a well-known violation! I will bet that some of the missing minutes in my account were when I fell asleep. I have never been a night owl. In fact, I have been a napper most of my life. I just took a 20-minute nap to prepare for tonight’s party at a neighbor’s house.
One thing I have found out about aging is that we learn about age and aging as children. There are a few years when birthdays are completely good. It’s easy to celebrate being a year older when it means graduating from a tricycle to a real bike. But at some point, you realize that aging is a one-way street. J. M. Barrie’s classic play, Peter Pan, is about the inevitability of growing up. I saw the television broadcast of the Mary Martin musical version in 1960, when I was eleven, in the grip of puberty. When the time came to save Tinker Bell by clapping to show that I believed in fairies, I was in tears. I could clap, but I didn’t believe. The door to childhood was closing, and I would never fly to Neverland. New Year’s Eve, for all the celebratory hoopla, is just an annual reminder that the timer is ticking. And I’ve discovered that just about everyone cries at midnight.
It’s okay, though. Once you know that life is finite, you appreciate it. The price I paid for childhood obliviousness was taking those years for granted, barely stopping to savor the experience. I will shed a few tears during “Auld Lang Syne”, but I’ll also have a big smile on my face. Goodbye 2022, you were good - while you lasted.
Happy New Year, friends.