Virginia Walters (Courtesy photo)

Virginia Walters (Courtesy photo)

Life in the Pedestrian Lane: More of the same?

I have no particular expectations for the New Year

Happy New Year! We are three days in and so far so good. We’ve gained about 18 minutes of daylight already, according to the charts. I haven’t really noticed it, but I’m sure someone or something has. It’s the 10th day of Christmas and the holidays are winding down. Monday is the Epiphany for some of us, Orthodox Christmas for others. Whatever you celebrate, it signals the end of the festivities for another year and the beginning of the new feast days for 2025. Time to get back to real life.

Ancient pagan religions dedicated a couple of weeks at the end of the year, around the solstice, that weren’t even counted as being part of the year and were used to really let the hair down and party. The Ancient Greek god Dionysus (Roman Bacchus) celebrated the end of the year with great abandon. He was the god of celebration, among other things, and really threw a party. The Romans called it Bacchanalia, after their god, and that word has been used ever since to signify a great celebration, possibly a little bawdy, but definitely of the eat, drink and be merry category. (Maybe where we find the Ten Lords a Leaping for this 10th day.)

Then Julius Caesar came along and established a calendar so everyone in his world could be on the same page and sorta dampened the spirit of spontaneous celebration, although he was known to throw a party or two in his time. How he managed to make January twice as long as all the other months and still maintain 31 days has been a puzzle to me all my life.

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So far it’s been a strange winter. Not many are happy with no snow. The refuge is closed to snowmachining and it is hard to go out and play, plus, it’s very dark. Now we know why we are supposed to have snow this time of year: Offers a little light in the unwavering darkness to lighten our spirits and to get us where we are going. It hasn’t been too cold, yet, but I fear for what’s to come. I remember more snow on St. Patrick’s Day than at Christmas one winter … one very long winter.

I have no particular expectations for the New Year. I’m of an age where I sorta go along to get along. We did gain two new great-grands in 2024, one in July and one in October. They are local, so we will have the pleasure of watching them grow and change. Already we witnessed a new tooth. It is more fun to watch the mothers (our granddaughters) learn all the new things they need to know. And Great-grandma is learning a few things she apparently did wrong, according to current baby-raising philosophy. I’m surprised a couple generations of kids lived to grow up.

Of course, there will be political drama this year. We welcome a new regime in a couple of weeks. That’s always spell-binding. This one promises to be very controversial, for lack of a better word. The first hundred days will take us into May, when we can at least get out and about, hopefully, and plan the gardens and camping trips. Maybe even take the first fishing adventure and shake off any lingering political backsplash.

But all in all, I don’t expect 2025 to be much different than 2024. I hope eggs get under three dollars and gas goes down some more, but it’s still a three-hour drive to Anchorage and the mail may or may not be on time. Commercial fishing will still be a mess, and both political parties are tone deaf. We used to say “Same song, second verse” for repeating scenarios. This feels like the third verse where everyone mumbles because they aren’t sure of the words, only that the music is the same.

As I was winding down to submit this, the news of Jimmy Carter’s death at age 100 was broadcast. Regardless of his politics and what one thought of his presidency, he was a great man. He accomplished as much or more post-presidency than he did during his reign, making Habitat for Humanity a household word, among other good works both here and around the world. If some of our other former presidents strived to do only half as much good and leave the politics to the next shift, our country would be a better place. Rest in Peace, Mr. Carter.

I hope 2025 turns out to be the first verse of a new song in your life!

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