I went to bed at 8 p.m. on New Years Eve thinking how horrified I would have been 40 years ago to greet the new year without all-night merry-making sometimes bordering on the insane.
My 2015 version is so much better. No, I mean it. Luckily I awoke at 11:51 and had to some time to review 2014, box up what I don’t want to remember and gently shove it away. (I look kind of like the lady pictured above if you take into account my frequent delusions of grandeur.)
At 11:58, I turned on the TV to watch some otherworldly New Years spectacle coming from Miami I think. I didn’t understand what the unidentified “celebrity” was barking out in rapster lingo while nearly naked girls bent beside him mooning the masses. At first I feared it was a bombing in Tel-Aviv.
I couldn’t help but chuckle to think how George Washington or Betsy Ross would have felt to awaken from their century-long naps to see the frenzy. All the rules of decorum have been long gone, replaced with electronic pulsating, teeth grinding hysteria.
What’s an aging bewildered Baby Boomer to do? We must decide that now is the time to become curators of our own contentment. We must live and let live even if we know a better way. At least for today we can choose to foster peace in a world starving to death for it.
We can offer the world a passionate enthusiasm for sucking the marrow out of each moment of each day for the next 365 bright mornings and starlit nights. We are so blessed to have been given the chance to walk the Earth as human beings with the potential to radiate peace and joy in whatever ways we choose. (Mooning the Masses seems a poor choice to me.)
Unite Boomers. We have a lot of work to do and so little time. Now, let’s get going and build a better day on January 1, 2015.