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Happy New Year (Month, and Day)!!

Sunday, January 4th, 2009

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Whew, 2009!   I can count nearly as many reasons and people why this change should be celebrated.  Funny.  New Year’s is still just part of the roll tide of tick tocks, but somehow it seems that time briefly pauses, sucks in a deep breath, and then breathes out  magic dust.  Now, NOW, we have permission, ability and everything else needed to create new lives or new us (if so desired).  I guess we could do that with the end of each month.  Each day?  After finishing this last well-traveled Christmas cookie?  : )

I thoroughly enjoyed the simplicity of my holidays.  In St. Louis I listened to Elvis on repeat with my nephews (new enthusiasts), enacted “adventures” of LEGO Indiana Jones (including struggles with dishwashers and squirrels), and spoiled my taste buds silly.  In Minnesota I played Balderdash with kiwi slang, snuggled under fleece blankets, and enjoyed the truest winter in my summer break—sledding, hockey, and making snow-flamingos (angels are overdone, aren’t they?).   

I realized that I’ve spent most New Year’s out of the country:  dinner from a hotel mini bar when restaurants were closed in Spain, foam wars in Mexico, Bollywood tunes in India, ocean-jumping in Belize, and last year’s beach walk and champagne in New Zealand.  But, this year I sat in the comfy chair in my parents’ house, eating the world’s best popcorn (mama’s secret), watching New Yorkers cheer and kiss every hour on the hour, and listening to little booms and pops in our suburban neighborhood.  Thanks to the longevity of friendship and unsolvable discussions, I also got to celebrate the flip again 3 hours later, Alaska time via phone lines.  [Meanwhile in New Zealand, everyone had long been sleeping and eating off their hang-overs.]  Really, there’s absolutely nothing more I could have wanted. 

I guess there are plenty of reasons to be both excited and nervous entering this new year. New president, new world disasters; tipsy finances, promising tax returns. Everything I read lately seems to be speaking in unison: Don’t let yesterday (or tomorrow) use up too much of today. Enjoy what you have right now. Perfect. I think I will guiltlessly finish the rest of these Christmas cookies and send thanks to all the people that made my holidays so exactly what I needed. From my little corner of the Southern Hemisphere I send my own booms and pops:  HAPPY NEW YEAR!  May the magic dust reveal what you already know: 

“Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  We are the change that we seek.”              BARACK OBAMA, speech, Feb. 5, 2008

Only Fools Run at Midnight

Sunday, July 1st, 2007

That’s the name of the race and the reason that I drove downtown last night at 11:30pm—to join in the silly side of Sitka. I’ve seen the outdoorsy, musical, professional, and friendly sides of town, but wanted something more bizarre without having to risk my reputation in local dive bars. Well, truthfully, it was probably a bit like a dive bar, spending the night with sweaty convicts, fishermen, jesters, and goofballs in mismatched clothing.

Oddly, the race and its absurdities went right along with everything else running through my mind all week. A couple nights ago I lay awake thinking of the kid’s game “Red light, Green light,” how one of my patients can’t keep the pedals on an arm bike moving smoothly, how I alternately wish for time to speed up and then hang onto it desperately to take in every detail. Another analogy: the dining room in the Dementia Ward.  There is Helen* who is always busy—combing her hair with a fork, sticking slippers on armrests, conducting a symphony of door alarms, and piling stuffed animals in the lap of the dapper man in the feathered hat.  Ernie on the other hand barely captures a bite from his plate before he falls asleep again, arm and spoon mid-air, cream of wheat in suspense until someone taps him on the shoulder to set him back in motion. [My patient, also pleasantly in her own reality, looks at me with wide eyes:  “Ooh, this is exciting!”]

So, I sit at 34, hoping that I can hold here for a while and capture a bite of everything on my plate, but unfortunately I also keep speeding toward my own state of oblivion where I’ll most likely resemble Claudine, pounding the table and demanding cookies.   

 

*yes, of course in the interest of tiny town, “names have been changed…”