The last day of 2012! I should have something to say on such a landmark occasion, but as so often happens at these moments, I am just filled with nostalgia. And not necessarily about 2012. At my age, these things called "years" race by with such speed that I can hardly see it all the first time by, never mind in recall mode!
I "discovered" my fountain pens again last week. You didn't know I had fountain pens? There was a long period in my life when that fetish was active. Over the years I have collected five really good fountain pens, three the 'suck up the ink' type, two the 'cartiridge ink' type. Three are Parkers, two are Shaeffer's. I have gone through long periods when I loved to write with REAL ink. It's classy, smooth, and my signature looks really professional. Such juvenile wanderings! Perhaps it's a sign of maturity that, although I've kept these pens all these years, I haven't touched them, or even knew where they were, for fifteen years! Perhaps it's a sign of senility that, once again, I am thrilled to have them working, and use at lest one of them each day!
Then, there is the clock. My daughter asked me about the old windup clock that sat on my mother;s buffet all the time In was growing up. It was wound faithfully, kept pretty good time, and rang out the hours regularly, sometimes waking me at night when I slept in the bedroom next to the dining room. The fact is, I have no idea what happened to it. When we broke up my mother's house after her death, furniture went in all directions, and the clock got lost in the shuffle. I'm sure it "went" to someone, but I have no idea to whom! Perhaps Caley; I'll ask when I see her next month, almost this month.
It's odd how year end meditations take you one far into the past, rather than just down the block of this past year. I remember the New Year's Eve when I was seventeen. Three of us - Casey, Al and I, decided that we would make "New Year's visits" on all my parents Scottish friends. And so we did. Of course, New Year's visits - or 'Hogmanay' visits, as the Scots would say, require the host to invite you in and offer you a drink. Wikipedia sums it up nicely: " It is ordinary among some plebeians in the South of Scotland to go about from door to door upon New-years Eve, crying Hagmane."
Folk were very welcoming, though I'm sure that they could all see what we were about. Underage though we were, they could "no refuse uz drink" on Hogmanay. And so off we went, three increasingly tipsy teenage boys, proud as punch to have found a legitimate way to get drunk on someone else's money, and all the time being well within the bounds of cultural convention. We gave no thought to the mixture we were imbibing: rum, here, scotch there, wine at that place, a beer at the next. These were all short visits, you understand - less than a half hour, so were drinking at a steady rate. None of us had wheels in those days, so were walking all over Transcona on a cold winter's night, -25 at least.
I got in around 1:30 AM: we split up at a corner, and each walked his own way home. In the morning, I felt fine. My partners in pleasure were not so lucky. Each had a blinding headache and a bilious stomach I even smoked a cigar that New Year's Day! That was the only time in my life that I did such a thing, and I have wondered more than once if the folk we visited had a good laugh at us after we left, being quite aware of what we were up to.
So, in a few hours, the year will turn, at least in our minds. Useful to remember that on the Christian calendar, the last day of the year is "Christ the Kin g" Sunday in November. Advent begins the next Sunday, and is the opening of the Christian Year. The Chinese have a different New Year, as do many other cultures I'm sure. (I'm too lazy to look it all up. If you care, google it!)
But I do wonder how January, the two-faced month, (named after Janus, the god facing in two directions) will unfold. I have traveling to do, and surgery to undergo, and a bit of a planned confronting of my partner in ministry to initiate. Well, not a confrontation as such; the opening of an issue that needs resolving in his life before he gets another permanent partner. I'm the one person who can raise the issue…so by the end of the month it will be on the table. As for the remainder of 2013, it will unfold as it will. Global warming will worsen, the plight of democratic government in Canada will also worsen as our current government turns us slowly into an oligarchy, while we plan trips to Mexico and ignore the whole thing.
Through my cynical lenses I pray that there are some principled idealists and determined democrats who can lead the rest of us into open revolt against the smug stateliness that has overcome or PM. I will cheer and contribute, but someone younger, smarter and more energetic will have to lead.
In the meantime, a "Guid New Year t'ye" any and all readers of these lines. Sing Auld Lang Syne once at least, and lift a glass of something to welcome 2013.
I "discovered" my fountain pens again last week. You didn't know I had fountain pens? There was a long period in my life when that fetish was active. Over the years I have collected five really good fountain pens, three the 'suck up the ink' type, two the 'cartiridge ink' type. Three are Parkers, two are Shaeffer's. I have gone through long periods when I loved to write with REAL ink. It's classy, smooth, and my signature looks really professional. Such juvenile wanderings! Perhaps it's a sign of maturity that, although I've kept these pens all these years, I haven't touched them, or even knew where they were, for fifteen years! Perhaps it's a sign of senility that, once again, I am thrilled to have them working, and use at lest one of them each day!
Then, there is the clock. My daughter asked me about the old windup clock that sat on my mother;s buffet all the time In was growing up. It was wound faithfully, kept pretty good time, and rang out the hours regularly, sometimes waking me at night when I slept in the bedroom next to the dining room. The fact is, I have no idea what happened to it. When we broke up my mother's house after her death, furniture went in all directions, and the clock got lost in the shuffle. I'm sure it "went" to someone, but I have no idea to whom! Perhaps Caley; I'll ask when I see her next month, almost this month.
It's odd how year end meditations take you one far into the past, rather than just down the block of this past year. I remember the New Year's Eve when I was seventeen. Three of us - Casey, Al and I, decided that we would make "New Year's visits" on all my parents Scottish friends. And so we did. Of course, New Year's visits - or 'Hogmanay' visits, as the Scots would say, require the host to invite you in and offer you a drink. Wikipedia sums it up nicely: " It is ordinary among some plebeians in the South of Scotland to go about from door to door upon New-years Eve, crying Hagmane."
Folk were very welcoming, though I'm sure that they could all see what we were about. Underage though we were, they could "no refuse uz drink" on Hogmanay. And so off we went, three increasingly tipsy teenage boys, proud as punch to have found a legitimate way to get drunk on someone else's money, and all the time being well within the bounds of cultural convention. We gave no thought to the mixture we were imbibing: rum, here, scotch there, wine at that place, a beer at the next. These were all short visits, you understand - less than a half hour, so were drinking at a steady rate. None of us had wheels in those days, so were walking all over Transcona on a cold winter's night, -25 at least.
I got in around 1:30 AM: we split up at a corner, and each walked his own way home. In the morning, I felt fine. My partners in pleasure were not so lucky. Each had a blinding headache and a bilious stomach I even smoked a cigar that New Year's Day! That was the only time in my life that I did such a thing, and I have wondered more than once if the folk we visited had a good laugh at us after we left, being quite aware of what we were up to.
So, in a few hours, the year will turn, at least in our minds. Useful to remember that on the Christian calendar, the last day of the year is "Christ the Kin g" Sunday in November. Advent begins the next Sunday, and is the opening of the Christian Year. The Chinese have a different New Year, as do many other cultures I'm sure. (I'm too lazy to look it all up. If you care, google it!)
But I do wonder how January, the two-faced month, (named after Janus, the god facing in two directions) will unfold. I have traveling to do, and surgery to undergo, and a bit of a planned confronting of my partner in ministry to initiate. Well, not a confrontation as such; the opening of an issue that needs resolving in his life before he gets another permanent partner. I'm the one person who can raise the issue…so by the end of the month it will be on the table. As for the remainder of 2013, it will unfold as it will. Global warming will worsen, the plight of democratic government in Canada will also worsen as our current government turns us slowly into an oligarchy, while we plan trips to Mexico and ignore the whole thing.
Through my cynical lenses I pray that there are some principled idealists and determined democrats who can lead the rest of us into open revolt against the smug stateliness that has overcome or PM. I will cheer and contribute, but someone younger, smarter and more energetic will have to lead.
In the meantime, a "Guid New Year t'ye" any and all readers of these lines. Sing Auld Lang Syne once at least, and lift a glass of something to welcome 2013.
