For the past 20-plus years, my husband and I have rung in the New Year the same way: we get together with the same couple, eat an early dinner at a modest restaurant, see a good (usually) movie, and go back to one of our houses to toast the New Year. And for some reason, we eat a pie.
What a relief to have reached an age when I no longer have the lyrics from the 1947 song by Frank Loesser -- What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? -- floating around in my head. Maybe you know the song. It's been recorded by Ella Fitzgerald, Lena Horne, Johnny Mathis, The Carpenters, Harry Connick Jr., Barbra Streisand, Clay Aiken, Bette Midler, and Idina Menzel (to name a few):
Maybe it's much too early in the game
Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same
What are you doing New Year's
New Year's Eve?Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight
When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night
Welcoming in the New Year
New Year's Eve...
I don't remember celebrating the New Year as a kid, other than struggling to stay up until midnight. But once I hit adolescence, New Year's Eve became a night to dread. If I had a date, I would end up at a lame party dancing to the Johnny Mathis version of the song and wishing I were home instead. If I didn't have a date, I hid at home or earned big bucks babysitting. In those days, girls did not go out celebrating with their BFFs. Without a date, you were stuck.
Once I was married, New Year's Eve was a BIG DEAL. We had to get dressed up in our finest, go to an overpriced restaurant, and then to some random party. I remember one brutally cold December 31st when I walked several blocks in high heels and a flimsy dress to someplace that seemed essential to celebrate the event. By the time we arrived, I was crying in pain over my frozen feet.
We did this for the first couple of years of our marriage. We even took an annual Polaroid photo of each other all dressed up like the composite one above from 1969. Then we started having kids and were back to staying home, watching childfree young folks celebrate on TV, and struggling to make it to midnight.
At some point when our kids were young, we had a brief tradition of getting together with other families and their children to ring in the New Year. We would order in food and the children would play. I remember one celebration at our house when the kids broke a window upstairs, had a fistfight, and ran outside screaming at midnight. That tradition was short-lived.
The next stage involved our staying home while our kids went out in search of the most fun-filled way to commemorate the New Year. We had no problem staying awake because we worried about their safety and needed to know all three of them were home before we could call it a night. Those were my least favorite New Year's Eves.
Now I get to watch my grandkids struggle to stay up to that magic hour. This year, two of the eight of them made it. I have no idea why it was so important to them. I could have told them that the old adage is true. The days may feel long but the years are short. Before they know it, they will get to try it again to welcome 2017.
Last year, my 91-year-old mother called me New Year's Day to report she had a blast the night before. She attended a party at her senior living community. She dressed in her most festive outfit and even put her walker aside to dance to music from her era. She proclaimed it "the best New Year's ever," but it was also her last. It was hard not to talk to her this January 1st.
My husband and I celebrated 2016 by getting together with some longtime friends. At a brunch with five other couples, all of us seniors, we struggled to hear one another. But, we agreed, that it was a great way to start the New Year. Just being together was something to celebrate. That evening, we toasted the New Year with our next-door neighbors of over 35 years. Again, we agreed it was wonderful that we could still share this tradition.
I don't typically make resolutions, but I enter 2016 as a member of the oldest living generation of my family, so it seems appropriate to impart some wisdom. After all, the wheel of my New Year's Eves has spun for 70 cycles. Surely I have learned something about the meaning of starting a fresh calendar. If I have, it's this:
The hoopla is silly. A more appropriate response would be personal reflection. What can I do to improve in the brand new year? More importantly, what can I do to make a positive impact on the lives of others? I resolve to try to find the answers to both questions and wish you a happy "Sweet Sixteen" New Year!
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Earlier on Huff/Post50: