New Year

I love the turnover of the year.  A constant in my childhood was my parents' raucous neighborhood New Year's Eve party, an annual bacchanal that, of course, became tamer with every year I grew closer to drinking age. As a kid, the night was a rare occasion where my brother, sister, best friends and I got to roam wild - navigating the strangely loud and happy adults all around us, venturing down to our basement to play bumper pool or get a chance at my dad's dartboard, which was shut up for the rest of the year. I was always vaguely aware that the grown-ups around me were drunk (at least), but I don't think it ever occurred to us to try to sneak alcohol. 

The best part of the night was always when it devolved (or evolved?) into music. Neither of my parents are particularly musical, but almost all of their friends are. By midnight there were always at least eight people, and often more like 15, gathered around my great-grandmother's practice piano, producing what I still consider the best live music I've ever heard. There were two lynchpins - a brilliant pianist and an amazing singer/guitarist - and then a hodgepodge of other players: several more guitars, maracas, a washboard tie, and on lucky years, a mandolin.

I've spent almost all my 30 New Years Eve's in this fashion: sitting on my parents' stairs, listening to their friends fill the house with the Beatles, the Traveling Wilburys, the Grateful Dead. Every year I reflect on the passage of time and the accordion effect that happens when you have an annual moment of synchronicity. I can compare this December 31st effortlessly to the one in 1999, because I'm sitting in the same place, having almost the same experience - and wow, how much I have changed.

I got married last year, and all the people singing around the piano were there. So was my husband, of course, and this was the first year that he also sat next to me on the stairs and heard the music play. I don't think he quite got it- and it's possible that the music isn't that good, that the piano won't stay in tune, that the singers keep forgetting the lyrics - this is all true. I tried to videotape the performance once, and the playback just wasn't the same. It's the moment, and it's me. It has to be enjoyed and then savored - hopefully just until next year. But who knows? Every year, I feel so lucky to be back there, to have one more chance. 

I didn't mean for this to get so melancholy! I've been feeling so inspired lately to DO things. I've started painting again - I've been getting the house in order - I'm on the second heel of my first post-holiday socks. 

I think it will be a good year.