Here we are, again, just a few days away from the end of 2012. How did that happen so fast?
Oh, how quietly those days have slipped by — some happy, some sad. We get busy in our own little worlds, like ants running around, carrying things from one place to another, whether they be objects or concerns.
These are serious times, but people who came before us have had their own serious moments in history— global and personal. People cope in different ways. They are comforted by different methods.
My first coping technique is prayer because I believe in a God who is all powerful and greater than me. My second method is my memories — of my youth, growing up in the country with wonderful parents and siblings.
I’m one of those people who tends to remember the good and forget the bad. You will seldom hear me talking about hard times, unless they lead to a happy ending.
Many New Year’s Eve celebrations throughout my childhood come to mind. Jan. 1 held surprises and good food, too.
Often Mum and Dad celebrated the new year with friends — sometimes at their homes, sometimes at a nearby tavern. We’d wake up looking forward to the souvenirs they brought home for us kids.
My favorite was the blowy things that whistled and flew out straight in front of your face. Not sure what they were called, but it wasn’t long before Mum and Dad said, “Quiet!” or “Take that thing outside!”
How about the metal noisemakers that clackity-clacked when spun around in the air, and the hats — some so pretty they ended up on my bedroom wall as decorations.
New Year’s Day was celebrated with a big noontime meal. My English mother would cook a delicious roast-beef dinner with halved potatoes roasted in the oven. (I’m sure that’s where I learned to love potatoes, roasted or otherwise.) Mum’s thick, beefy gravy topped off everything and leaves a memory that I can almost taste even today.