December 31

I hope 2024 brings good times, resilience, community, and friendships galore.

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.

Comment 2022

Another holiday, another night sitting at the O’s house. It amazes me that 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 am willing to 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 20-minute nap in preparation for tonight’s party at a neighbor’s house.

One of the insights I have learned about aging is how we learn about age and aging (and time) as children. There are a few years in childhood 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 start to realize that aging is a one-way street.

J.M. Barrie’s classic play, Peter Pan, is about 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 in affirmation that I still believed in fairies, I was in tears. I could clap, but I didn’t really 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.

1975

The last day of the year, and it’s time to look back at the past, convince myself that it is past, and see what’s ahead. It was a good year for me - - my assistantship, teaching, seeing Bob (he’s coming again!). Thinking, growing, reaching out. Beginning to see good possibilities for myself. It’s not been good year for Jim, or so it seems. He’s still floating along. Working, watching TV. That’s about it. Hoping for better times.

1984

I’m not sure if I’m really enjoying being footloose and fancy-free right now, like I thought I would. What I enjoy most is reading, and it’s hard to do that when I’m alone with Kiddo. I have some thinking/planning to do, and that’s also hard. Right now I could happily sleep for an hour (6 a.m. came too soon).

Yesterday I got 3-4 hours of writing done, thanks to Jim taking Kiddo outside.

Right now it’s a typical Monday morning, which is to say off to a slow start. Time to size up my day and my week.

Tonight is New Year’s Eve; we’ll share a split of champagne and turn in early.

Today I’d like to play the piano, dust the computer. Buy a calendar, and think about a menu planning system.

Later - - there’s a house we’re looking at on Wednesday and part of me wants it to be the cosmic house. Part of me prefers not to move.

1995

The last day of a truly awful year. From Dad’s funeral one year ago until today, it’s been a stressful year. Jim still has no job prospects and financial shipwreck is just month away. But oh, well. Here’s to 1996; and I hope it’s a better year than 1995.

1997

I have finished Simple Abundance, a year-long journey with Sarah Ban Breathnach. It has been very good, very thought-provoking. I am ready to begin the cycle again.

Speaking of cycles, I had a thought of how to revise Christmas into more of a focused, solstice/Yule season. I think we’ve been moving this way, anyway. Something like 12/21-23, solstice and looking back. (Honor ancestors and those who passed this year, storytelling, reviewing the year, letting go) Then 12/24-28, living in the present. (Time with self, family and friends) Finally, 12/29-1/1, preparing for the future. (Resolutions, promises, commitments, welcoming change)

Well, if I am to get everything done I need to get moving. I am particularly pleased that this big fat notebook lasted a whole year, with one page to spare. That means I wrote nearly every day, and it is one reason I feel alive again.

1998 (Morning pages excerpt)

So I am supposed to do morning writing. I probably procrastinated too long, eating breakfast and then reading the paper. The beagle snores in the bed. My left knee aches a tiny bit. My nose is drippy. Why am I not done grading yet? How can I possibly do all the grading for the interterm course? I think I must be insane, and then I think I will do more crafts and also organize a simplicity circle at my church. Fat chance! (Shut up, you.) Kiddo 2 likes “autumn” better than “fall” because “There’s more to it than just falling leaves”. Who would know there is a poet in there?

…two more pages…be glad I am sparing you the description of how the dogs’ new tags have different jingles…

Is this it? Am I finally dried up? Naw, I can still think of something to write. Like how glad I am that I managed to write for three pages, which seemed impossible. When I read it yesterday, I immediately started negotiating. Maybe just one page, to start. Three pages in a smaller notebook. So here is the question:

Why do I try to get writing “over with”?

Does that mean I don’t really enjoy it? Because when I’m done, I feel great.

It’s a paradox.

Comment 2023

Oh, the joy and pain of “morning pages”.

2019

New Year’s Eve 2019 (not a haiku)

And just in time,
The first star flickers above the naked winter trees
So I can wish for better times.

You can just barely see the star. Look closely; it’s there.

Also 2019

Because you need a message from a friend in the middle of all those end-of-the-year solicitations for money.

I checked my email inbox today, and it was so sad. it was even sadder than my actual mailbox, which has been stuffed with “mail” from charities, noble causes, pleas from political candidates, and grocery store coupons. (No, I have not discarded the Oxford comma, and I never will.) Here’s a some random news and speculation from me to brighten up your New Year’s Eve Day, because who doesn’t need some real mail?

The coming year is going to be a challenge, on every level. How could it not be? If our parents were still living, we’d get a lecture about the Great Depression and the Second World War, as a reminder of the power in community and unity. The power is still there, as is the realization that we never know if it will be enough to make a difference. As Geraldine Brooks writes in March (one of the best books I read in 2019):

“The outcome is not the point.

The point is the effort…To believe to act, and to have events confound you — I grant you, that is hard to bear. But to believe, and not to act, or to act in a way that every fiber of your soul held was wrong — how can you not see? That is what would have been reprehensible.”

That’s a heavy thought for a holiday letter, but there’s no sugarcoating the mess we are in: our country, humanity, the earth. So I plan to hold tighter to the good people around me, and balance my need to turn inward for restoration and to direct my energy outward for positive change.

“Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold.”

I used to joke that I could never figure out which was which. A recent conversation finally switched on the light. My really indispensable friends - the “golden” ones - are a mix of ages, and they came into my life anywhere from middle school to last year. What they have in common is the way we fit together, the comfort we enjoy in our interactions. Sometimes it happens quickly: you hit it off at a first meeting. But you can also know someone for years or decades before you finally get a chance to connect on that magical level that leads to close friendship.

So make new friends and keep the old; cherish them all.

Friend, I hope 2020 brings you good times, resilience, community, and friendships galore.

2021

Tarot last year: Busy but handling it, needed to stay adaptable.
Tarot this year: You wonder what to do and where to go next. You’ve had success lately but are a bit uncertain about your next steps. It’s not time to rest> Don’t get distracted and started fixed on your goal.

2022

And then the holidays began and I just rolled through them. I did lots of fun things and quiet things. It was all good. And very, very cold. Now on to 2023.

2024

Today, this version of Spiral Notebook closes, and slips into the Substack Archives. You still can find the entries for every day there, by searching on the Month and Day or by using the index page (under construction; I am learning). Beginning soon, Spiral Notebook will be my portfolio of storytelling (prose, poetry) and visual explorations. Happy New Year, whatever comes.

Janus/Jo