Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
January 1st 2015 (Resolution – Writing every day – CD…thinking and channelling you!)
I am notoriously a ‘bah-humbug’ where the New Year holiday is concerned. The term ‘holiday’ is used lightly here – because, I have always wondered ‘what makes this a holiday?”. Essentially, a manmade time tracker, known as our calendar, deems a new year every 365. When we are lucky, that becomes 366 days. Either way, it marks the need to order new stationary, remember a new digit and essentially just get on with life.
As a girl, New Year’s Eve had a forbidding lustre of strange and interesting things that happened while I slept. Typically, I was in bed by eight, and likely asleep by nine, therefore anything that happened ‘at midnight’ carried a mystery of intrigue to my little mind. When I pounded my parents with questions, all I got was ‘Oh, we count down until 12 midnight then shout ‘Happy New Year’ and kiss each other’. Yeah, right! Everyone gets all gussied up, they pay for a babysitter (which happened maybe three times a year in our household), just so everyone can countdown a clock? There was no convincing me which meant that the rest of my childhood was spent in search of what really went on at New Years.
During my teenage years, the search ended with truly shattered illusions of the holiday. Not only were the folks right about it being just a countdown; I also learned it was all about drinking and slinking up close to a boy so you can at least get kissed at midnight. This moved into many years of not really wanting to go out unless I had a date – because, who wants to be standing in a crowded party at midnight watching everyone snog while you sip your warm poorly mixed concoction (Yes, that is speaking from experience). One year, I ventured down to the beach, which in California translates to ‘warzone’ on a night like New Years. It was wild and meant to be fun, but to be honest I really just wanted to get home. Then, at midnight, my mom came to collect us. When she finally got there, she was none too happy that a typical 20 minute trip took over an hour because of all the cruising and partying going on throughout the beach strip. Her frustration was completely understandable, but years later I still wonder what made her think it was OK to have a 13 year old hanging at the beach until 1am in all of that? Different time, I know, I know.
Anyway, that said, my very best teenage New Year’s Eve was at a Cheap Trick concert. I went with a bunch of girlfriends and did not have any of that ‘kiss the boy’ pressure at midnight. It was a great show, with lots of encores which always makes me feel that sense of getting my money’s worth. Also, after seeing Cheap Trick perform so many times at the Whiskey-a-go-go (again, another story), I did feel a sort of ownership or ‘inside track’ to see them performing at such a big arena for New Years. All in all – the best concert/party ever.
College years meant typically being home for the holidays – so mostly I stayed in for dinner with the folks, watching TV to see the Time Square ball drop – then off to bed. However, there was one memorable night at a dinner party my friend’s parents hosted. It was at their apartment, which I thought was so sheik – to live in an apartment! With an ocean view! They invited a few sets of adults (couples, again!) with just two younger folk – my best friend and me. What I thought would be a boring evening ended up being so fun. The party started at nine, so we only sat down for dinner at about 10:30pm. There were so many great stories, jokes and just fun conversation. We were allowed a sip of Champagne to toast in the New Year (to this day, one of my greatest joys is that first sip of heaven). At midnight, we stood on the balcony and watched the fireworks off the pier. There were cuddles and kisses all around. It was an absolute treat.
The rest of my New Year’s celebrations essentially are unmemorable to poor. I remember my first New Years as a recent migrant to Australia. We were invited to my brother-in-laws house for dinner. No one wanted to walk down to the pier to see the fireworks, so we watched the Melbourne festivities on TV. At 12:05, my sister in law stood up and said “That was the boring-ist (not a word but the one she used) New Year’s Eve. I’m going to bed’. Welcome to Australia.
In 1999, I was working on a Year 2000 project for a major bank. As you may recall, we got ourselves pretty rattled about the catastrophes that could unfold if we did not spend millions of dollars on IT consultants to help us re-write code using computer languages I learned in freshman year at college. Anyway, that New Years was a real let down, because all the lights stayed on, computers worked, and life pretty much kept going on as usual.
Cut to 2014…we are enjoying summer holidays at the beach, when my youngest son mentions he has been invited to a NYE party …in Melbourne. Ok, I think that is cool. He wants to celebrate which means I have not totally ruined him on the concept of it being a non-holiday. I agree to drive back to town so he can attend the party. We do the 8pm drop off and then I am back home. By myself. On New Year’s Eve. This is a first! I decide to eat a bit of chocolate from the Christmas stocking stash in the fridge, I watch a favourite comedy DVD for the umpteenth time, then get treated to an hour of the ‘best of Graham Norton’ (LOVE that man). At midnight, I step out on my balcony and watch the city skyline light up with fireworks. A drunken party goer at a balcony above me is shouting out in a very sloshy voice, “Happy New Year!” over and over. Finally, she sadly mumbles, “No one is saying Happy New Year back to me!” Her friend consoles her by saying happy New Year and they go inside.
And me? I overwhelmed with the most wonderful feeling – just enjoying the moment with no expectations, no one to entertain and only the joy of watching a beautiful lightshow.
Maybe, not such a bad holiday after all.
Happy 2015!