When I was a kid, I remember New Year’s Eve being a big deal to me. I got to stay up late and watch the count down in New York’s Time Square, with the famous ball drop, on TV. No surprise, it was a very emotional moment for me. I’d tear up, every single time, especially for the year 2000 when I was waiting, flashlight in hand, for the world to end, but, it didn’t. Out with the old, in with the new, the anticipation of a new year filled with promise, or so the tradition goes. For me, that usually involves an empty promise to lose weight and to lessen the clutter in my house, but whatever.
To the best of my memory, my folks never went out and partied. As a matter of fact, my folks didn’t drink, not really, and to the best of my knowledge, they didn’t even have friends. As a matter of fact, I don’t’ recall ever having a babysitter besides my big sister, but it was never because my folks were “going out”. No, they were pretty much homebodies, just like me. I have a few photographs of my dad wearing a funny New Year’s Eve hat, sipping on a Black Cow ice cream soda that my mom had made for him. I also remember having those noise makers that you spun around and the ones that were made of paper that would unfurl when blown into, but that was pretty much the extent of our New Year’s celebration.
When I was in high school, long story short, I had very much liked a young man from grade school that come junior year, had completely cut me out of his life, no explanation was ever to be known to me. On that New Year’s Eve, I received a phone call from someone that I kind of knew at high school, and was very surprised that she would know my phone number. Somehow, she had come upon it and called me with some silly story about updating her phone book. On New Year’s Eve? Right. She asked me if I had the young man’s phone number, which of course, I did. Me being me, I easily gave up the information in hopes of becoming part of the “in crowd”, but in reality, I knew better. I knew I was being used, and that this person was probably having a party and wanted to invite him, not me. Yes, “Of all the Charlie Browns in the world, I’m the Charlie Brownest.” Shortly thereafter, I found out that she began to date him. Oh bother.
It was that night, that I began a tradition of my own. I made a habit of keeping track of friend’s and family’s birthdays and transferring them from one wall calendar to another. Since then, every New Year’s Eve, I transfer the growing information to a new calendar. I’ve added anniversaries and sadly, the dates of when my loved ones have transitioned. The beginning of new jobs and the dates of surgeries have been added in recent years. Sometimes, I think I’m just a sad sack, that I have kept the birthdays of people who have passed and those who no longer care about my existence. However, I have found the strength to no longer keep a running log of Michael’s or John the Pilot’s birthdays, that’s progress, right?
Last night, as tradition dictates, I transferred all these dates I find a need to keep track of, onto a 2025 wall calendar. It was alarming to realize, how many “passed” dates I have collected. Even more alarming, how many dates I’ve kept track of, of people I barely speak to. I wonder why I do that? Is it some sort of false hope that they think more of me than I realize? Do I keep the information, so that if I am feeling especially needy, I can send them a greetings card and force them into thinking of me? That’s pretty pathetic, I hope I don’t do that.
Today, I was searching through my clutter for some information I deemed necessary, but can no longer recall what it was. Yes, I’m that old. I came across my extra Walgreen’s Christmas cards and decided to send them to folks I will never, ever receive a Christmas card from, instead of tossing them. I send out many more cards than I receive, what does that say about me? I have a hope, that there is someone out there, that saves them and has kept a catalog of the images I have sent out every year of my family and I. Even though I would have a hard time finding copies of all the photo cards that I have sent out over the past 34 years, maybe there is one person out there that cares enough to keep mine. I am pathetic.
Anyway, while scanning through my phone book, you know that paper and pen kind, the one that my father once decided that he needed to go through and update by typing the pages, making typos, and tossing not only the handwritten pages, but other memorabilia of mine, some I didn’t manage to retrieve from the trash in time, yeah, that one. While looking at all the entries, I realized that there have been so many people in my life, people I felt necessary to write down their names, addresses and phone numbers, just in case I ever needed to reach them. So many people, who no longer have a place in my life, or have died, or are dead to me. Don’t judge me, you have them too.
While scanning, I came across a grade school chum that I have always held dear. She is the kindest soul to walk the earth. Freshman year of high school, I remember finding her crying in the hallway because she couldn’t remember where her locker was. I assured her, we would find it, no need to cry, and we did. As adults, we kept in touch having playdates for our four kids. One time, she and her mother were out for a walk and stopped by my house. This is when I found out that she had remarried and had a third child. There were a few phone conversations over the years, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve heard from her. I found her on Facebook, or she found me, I don’t recall, and found out that one of her sons had passed. However, when I tried to contact her through Facebook, there was no response, so I don’t know if it is a real profile or not, because it’s not like her to ignore someone.
It’s been so long since we’ve communicated, I decided to look up her address on line to see if I could figure out if she was still living there. I doubt that my detective work was successful, but I decided to mail her a card anyway. We will see, if in a few months it is returned to me, or if she responds. I would hate to think that she is lost to me for forever, but nothing lasts for forever, not even friendships.
Maybe this will be my new New Year’s tradition. Maybe, with each new year, instead of just transferring the information on my wall calendar, or scouring through my phone book, I will try to reach out to someone, whom I deemed worthy enough of remaining in my handwritten keepsakes, to reconnect. Maybe I will find out that they were thinking of me too, or maybe I will find out that my memories are all I have left of that relationship. Just because I remember someone fondly, doesn’t mean that they feel the same. However, if I don’t try, I will never know.
Last night, when I watched the ball drop in Times Square, I cried, just like I always do. I often wonder, if I am the norm or the anomaly in doing this? I was really surprised when a family member once told me that I light up a room when I walk in, just like my mother used to. I think of myself as a sad person, and that’s how I remember my mother as well. Memories are weird like that. For all I know, my parents were party animals and I just don’t remember. That’s why I like writing my blog, it will help me to remember who I was, what I’ve done, and how I felt, as the years roll on. Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? I think not. Just like the dates on my calendar, some are better not to transfer year to year, but most are. It’s good to remember the people that have touched my life in one way or another, even if it’s just a handwritten note year after year. It’s like a moment of prayer, not pathetic at all, and it makes me smile.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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