Although it is tempting, there will be no New Year’s resolutions for this guy for 2022.
At my stage in life, I don’t resolve stuff anymore. If I did, I would resolve not to lose weight. I would resolve to eat dessert first, starting with banana pudding. If I even thought about resolving to exercise, I would resolve to lie down on the sofa and binge-watch episodes of “The Andy Griffith Show” until the urge went away. I am not into resolutions that won’t last past the fourth quarter of the Boola-Boola Tasty Noodle Bowl, Instead, I am into hope. Hope springs eternal.
I hope that I appreciate every sunrise every day, for it means God has given me one more day to try and get it right. I don’t take these days for granted as I once did. Sadly, I spent too many of them in the past worrying about things that I can’t even recall today.
I hope of the days I have remaining, I use them wisely. There are too few of them left to be wasted. I can’t change what happened yesterday and I have no guarantees of a tomorrow, so I had better hope I make this one count for something.
I hope when I am out in public, I conduct myself so that people who know me will say there is a person who walks his talk. That is particularly important if I don’t know they are watching me. I hope I behave myself because it is the right thing to do, not because I think I am being observed.
I hope I never forget how I got to this place. I didn’t get to pick my parents but I got two gems. My father taught me about hard work, honesty and integrity.
My mother imbued me with an insatiable curiosity and to try and make this a better world by getting involved. No standing on the sidelines. I’m not sure I have worked as hard, been as consistently honest, exhibited integrity when I needed to or made as much of a difference in this world as I should have, but that’s not their fault. That’s mine.
I hope I keep things in perspective. Losing the beloved Woman Who Shares My Name last year made me realize what is important and what is not. It is all about a loving family and more friends than I deserve. A plaque on the wall is scant comfort.
I hope I never fail to take the opportunity to tell my kids and grandkids and great grandkids that I love them and to hug them every chance I get. I hope you will, too. Don’t make them assume.
I hope I remember to regularly thank those who do the chores I can’t do or don’t want to do. That includes those who cut my grass, pick up my trash, keep the bugs at bay, deliver my mail, cut my hair and keep my home inhabitable.
I hope nobody serves me liver, brussels sprouts, escargot (a fancy word for snails), eel soup or (of course) broccoli this year. I don’t want to be impolite but I’m not eating that stuff. Send it to those kids in China my daddy was always telling me about when I was little and balking at eating my green beans.
I hope I become more tolerant of those who see the world through a limited philosophical prism and think their way is the only way.
That includes politics and religion, newspaper pundits and talking heads on television. But this may require some reevaluation on my part because this is where I find most of my humor-impaired souls.
Without them and their narrow-minded harrumphs, I am just another voice in the wilderness.
I hope I never forget how blessed I am to be a native Georgian. I hope we never lose sight of what makes our state so special, from the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Golden Isles and a lot of neat people and places in between.
We must be doing something right. There are a whole lot more folks moving in than moving out. Bless their hearts.
Most of all, I hope I manage to make it through another year on the right side of the grass and that with the permission of the editors we can continue our weekly conversations. As usual, I may sometimes be in error but I am never in doubt. I hope that never changes. Happy New Year.