There are those who believe New Year's Day is one for reflection on the past year. I am not one of them. Last year was what it was and will always be so. It is past, never to return.
Perhaps I'll have a thought or two about some of the events that occurred, but generally speaking, what's done, as is so often said, "is done."
Those things that might be considered interesting might make a story or two, but aside from that . . .
This year, 2012, I suppose I'll be at least pleased to get out of bed; after all, in a few days I'll be a year from seven decades.
I have, indeed, seem much in my life, maybe too much; I've done a lot, maybe more that most, but certainly less than many. In retrospect, I think of it all as a series of stories that might be recounted orally or by written word.
How odd that the most perplexing issue for me these days is Maggie. Most of those whom I've known over the years I can still contact; I pretty much know what they're doing, assuming they're alive. But Maggie, well, I've written about her quite a bit.
It is modestly disturbing not to know if she's dead or alive. If I put on my old reporter's hat, I could find out. The fact that I don't could mean maybe I just don't really care; or maybe it concerns me that I'll find she's dead (in my family we don't use euphemisms like "passed on.")
Today I'm spending watching old movies and I hope you readers are having a pleasant day.
As to 2012, I hope brings you what you desire…but remember the old saw, "Be careful what you wish for…"