2009 is coming to an end, and 2010 is drawing near. Sometimes is amazes me how holidays and such have evolved for me through the years. When I was very young, I was excited to get to stay up late and watch Guy Lombardo ring in the new year with my parents. In my teens, I remember finding Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve and claiming it as my own. Once I moved with Bill to Brooklyn in the 80s, we would venture out to Spectrum, a gay club in Brooklyn where they filmed Saturday Night Fever, complete with that dance floor. [I recently discovered that club was torn down in 2005]
1993 changed things a bit for me. After nearly 10 years in NYC, I decided to move back to Delaware from NYC in September. A few days after Christmas, I went into the hospital, and spent New Year's Eve and day there. I was eventually told I had colon cancer, and had surgery. This was followed by 50 of 52 weeks of chemotherapy, and the appropriate weekly blood tests. Following that period of being a pin-cushion, I wasn't really up for a whole lot of big partying. Pretty much from that point on, I preferred a quieter celebration for New Year, whether I was in Delaware, Rhodes Island, or Vermont. But I do tend to be somewhat introspective, and very grateful for each new year I can welcome.
And while some might be remembering Michael Jackson or Patrick Swayze, I will be thinking of my dear Timon, my moody teenaged feline son, who I lost in June after nearly 15 years together. He was born on the farm in Delaware, and had been with me from the time he was a few months old. He moved with me to Rhodes Island, and again later to Vermont. When I was sick, he was there to comfort me, and I him.
And I will be listening to a traditional song by Daniel J. Cartier. He does a particularly haunting and beautiful version of Auld Lang Syne which I find irresistible. Here it is.
Happy New Year.
