When I read the following offering from Slim Randles to start the New Year, I had to smile. I can relate to Doc. In fact, for probably the last 10 years I have hardly ever stayed up to the midnight hour on New Year’s Eve, preferring to go to bed at my usual time, and waking up the next morning with a sense of expectancy and excitement for what was coming.
It always felt like starting over.
Getting a new slate; a new blank journal; and a new beginning.
I didn’t get my wish for no more Ramsay Hunt Syndrome when I woke up on New Year’s Day, but I am going to do my best to keep pushing him into the background.
Doc wasn’t really sure just why he woke up so early this morning and went outside. It was cold, of course, as the first day of any new year is supposed to be.
He and Mrs. Doc had watched some television of the parties taking place around the world, but then, about 11, he began thinking of the mystery he was reading, and how comforting and nice it is to lie in bed and read each night as part of a years-old routine.
So he went to bed and read. Mrs. Doc came in a few minutes later.
“Guess we’re getting old, Honey,” she said, smiling. “Can’t even stay up to watch the ball drop, can we?”
Doc smiled back. “Any doubts about their ability to get that ball dropped on Times Square? Me neither. They must be getting pretty good at it by now.”
So now, with the coming of dawn, with the coming of a new day, a new month, a new year, came an old Doc.
New year, but the same back yard. The trees get bigger and I get older. But maybe the trees and I get a little better, too. That’s something to kinda latch onto, isn’t it
Doc walked over to the compost bin. Frozen, of course. And he looked at it and thought about the internal workings of the compost bin.
Despite the cold, there are worms in there chewing up old stuff and turning it into new stuff, and the new stuff is better than the old stuff, and the worms are earning a living doing it. What’s wrong with this?
Nothing. I guess that’s how it goes, if we’re lucky. Doctors get old, but they still deliver brand-new babies, with no warts or scars on them yet, and no one has taught them to be mean to others.
Not a bad deal. Not a bad deal at all.
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Do you party-hearty on New Year’s Eve? What is your favorite New Year’s Eve memory? One of mine is when we started the annual New Year’s Eve card party when my father would come to Dallas from Houston to spend the holiday with us. In addition to playing Euchre for hours, we would take breaks to play some music. Of course, we would have to sing Auld Lang Syne, and I still get misty-eyed when I hear it.
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Brought to you by the new syndicated radio program, “Home Country with Slim Randles,” with stories and classic country music. Listen and Enjoy.
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Slim Randles writes a nationally syndicated column, “Home Country” that is featured in 380 newspapers across the country. He is also the author of a number of books including Saddle Up: A Cowboy Guide to Writing. That title, and others, are published by LPD Press. If you enjoy his columns here, you might want to check out the book Home Country. It has some of the best of his offerings through the years. |