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Et tu, 002?
Dec. 31st, 2002 05:16 amIn our corner of the world, the official year is muddling toward its end as wet as a fish. At the moment, no rain is falling, and the fresh wind is perhaps an indication that the clouds will soon blow away, for the first time in days. My feelings are mixed. I am eager to see the sun again, and the moon, (though it is nearly pared down to nothing, this late in its cycle), but I know that once the storm has passed, the cold front will bring those chilly temperatures I so dislike. All in all, this is one hell of a season in which to celebrate a new year.
December, of course, was the tenth month of the Roman Calendar, and, in their time, and long after, the western world began the new year in March. Today, many other cultures still await the approach of spring to begin a new year. How so sensible a custom came to be lost to our culture, I don't know, but I do wish that it could be restored. I will admit to some envy of the inhabitants of the southern hemisphere, who get to hold their new year's parties in the warm summer night.
But, in a few hours, drunken people all over North America will go out into the cold, make noise, and sing a mournful Scottish song while freezing their asses off in the most misguided of all holidays. I, as I have since I came to this chilly place, shall ignore them. I will hear the illegal fireworks, the horns, the local buffoon who owns a siren of the sort once used on fire engines and police cars, but I will not join in the cacophony. I will reassure my distressed cats that the noise is only noise, and I will note that Tuesday has ended, and another Wednesday has begun. Happy new month to all.
December, of course, was the tenth month of the Roman Calendar, and, in their time, and long after, the western world began the new year in March. Today, many other cultures still await the approach of spring to begin a new year. How so sensible a custom came to be lost to our culture, I don't know, but I do wish that it could be restored. I will admit to some envy of the inhabitants of the southern hemisphere, who get to hold their new year's parties in the warm summer night.
But, in a few hours, drunken people all over North America will go out into the cold, make noise, and sing a mournful Scottish song while freezing their asses off in the most misguided of all holidays. I, as I have since I came to this chilly place, shall ignore them. I will hear the illegal fireworks, the horns, the local buffoon who owns a siren of the sort once used on fire engines and police cars, but I will not join in the cacophony. I will reassure my distressed cats that the noise is only noise, and I will note that Tuesday has ended, and another Wednesday has begun. Happy new month to all.
