Another Year

Before I say a word on the subject of the year 2019, let me advise everyone to be alert and aware enough to stop writing 2018 in your correspondence, most especially on checks (assuming you still use them, at least occasionally). In fact, the best course of action would be to pull out your current checkbook and immediately write 2019 on all the remaining checks. That way, you won’t have any of them bounce during the first few months of the year.

But shame on me for taking such a negative view of our new year, seeing nothing in it except the opportunity to commit blunders. After all, we should not embark on a new year by thinking of all the possible things that can go wrong merely because we have turned the page on 2018. What was so good about the past year anyway? It began with a horrendous school shooting and ended with a government shutdown. We lost wonderful artists like Aretha Franklin, Charles Aznavour, and Neil Simon. Good riddance, I say. Well, there I go again being cynical and depressing.

Let’s take a different tack altogether. What is a year? Twelve months, you say. What is a month, a day, an hour, a second? Aren’t these just arbitrary periods of measurement we have adopted to mark time? (You might even ask what is time, but don’t let us get carried away altogether.) Events occur, they pass us by, we interact, and then they’re gone. It is a never-ending parade – the good, the bad, the indeterminate. Only our death closes the book on it all. Then how can we be so presumptuous as to declare that there is a definite order to it all? It’s astronomical, you say. It’s all about the sun and the earth’s rotation and orbit and the seasons. It’s science. Really? Then how come when I was reading about the life of Leon Trotsky the other day, the author said he was born on November 7, 1879 (old style October 26)? Old style, what’s that about? And what about the Romans going by the Julian calendar made up by Julius Caesar which was then replaced by the Gregorian calendar in 1582 invented by one of the popes named Gregory? See what I’m saying? Anybody can make up their own calendar. You might want one based on the sun, or one based on the moon. You can start counting the years anytime you like. Use the death of Abraham, the birth of Jesus, the first sighting of Professor Irwin Corey, whatever.

And don’t get me started on months. During the French Revolution, they decided that they didn’t like January and February anymore, so they replaced them with Nivose and Pluviose. Then they went right on through the rest of the year, giving them all different names, and not even paying attention to when the old months began or ended. (I have to admit I do like their Germinal better than our March. You know seeds growing up in the spring and all.) You get the point. It’s all arbitrary. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a flat-earther like Kyrie Irving, and I do believe that man walked on the moon, unlike Stephen Curry. I don’t care if they are all-NBA players. Those guys are nuts.

The point is, let’s not get too hung up on the ball dropping in Times Square. It’s not going to be the start of a new epoch. We will not be entirely new people born into a bright new era. But might we not have learned a few things from time past, and can’t we at least apply that knowledge in a productive manner? Maybe we won’t commit the same mistakes for the 25th time. Maybe 24 of them will be enough to teach us a lesson. Oh sure, we’ll commit new ones, but so what? We’re only human, right?

I know I learned a few things recently. For one, I learned that this marks the 17th anniversary of this outstanding publication. Now, I should have known that since I’ve written this column for the past few years, but I guess I’m a slow learner. OK, I knew it was the anniversary issue, because Rick’s email said so, and he should know. I just didn’t remember which anniversary it was. And yes, I’m using the term “anniversary” after going on about how years and months and all are pretty much meaningless, nothing but whimsical inventions. Well, who are you going to believe – me or your calendar? I know the answer to that one, and you’re right. This column is called Driving off the Bridge for good reason. You can take what is espoused here and dive into the briny depths with it. But you know what? I did buy a bottle of prosecco to sample with the wife when the experts told us it was time to do so, and it wasn’t bad. And wouldn’t it be something if this year we were able to carry out one or two more of our New Year resolutions than we’ve been able to do in the past? You don’t make any, you say? Well, 2019 is a good time to start.