OLD YEAR, NEW YEAR, GOODYEAR

With the old year out, the new year in, why not plan a road trip on a set of Goodyears?

What else sounds  better than Goodyear?

A new year deserves a slice of goodness to balance what comes next.

But that’s still to come.

Last year may have been my best one yet, and it’s not because I’m running out of years to compare it to.

I’ve had plenty of good, and not so go0d years.

Stick around long enough and you get a sense of balance, which puts complaining in a different light.

And what, you might ask, is that supposed to mean?

 

A Different Light

On New Year’s Eve eve the wife and I stayed up to practice for tonight.

While we were up and awake we agreed to watch the first show of a series: All The Light We Cannot See.

In the past, if I had suggested we watch historical fiction featuring WWII in France, Nazi’s good and bad, and a shell-shocked WWI survivor on the French side, we would have been watching a re-run of Law and Order SVU instead.

 

Wife: I didn’t know it would be this bad. We can watch something else.

Me: Let’s see what happens in the next ten minutes.

 

So we watched the entire series in one sitting with stretch breaks, gin, and tonic.

During one break I stood out on the balcony and counted crab boat lights out on the ocean. Twenty-two.

It looks like a crabby new year.

 

Last Year, The Old Year

Every year the band stays together is a good year.

The Beatles were The Beatles from 1960 to 1970.

My band, my family, has been together from 1986 onward with additions and no subtractions.

I’ll do the math: thirty-eight.

The singer almost left, but had a change of heart. Thankfully.

Since then we’ve tightened up.

We’ve built community, fences, and a few fires to keep warm.

 

Most often the year’s end is showcased by the last events.

What are you going to do when things pile up at the end?

You ignore it and let bite you in the ass later; ignore it and let everything pass; or you deal with it before moving on.

The key for me is getting things settled down to start the new year right.

Toward that goal I went to an appointment I’d forgotten about.

Yesterday I answered the phone the way I do when it’s a number I don’t recognize: “Hello, this is David.”

The voice on the other end was cheerful.

What’s better than a cheerful nurse calling with the ALL CLEAR on skin cancer?

Call me thankful.

 

Next Year’s Challenges

I’m north of Newport after driving over from the valley on Hwy 18 to 101 and through Lincoln City and Depoe Bay.

Today’s challenge: Ocean Bleu at Gino’s.

In the old days a beach trip wasn’t much of an endeavor since I grew up surrounded by water from Coos Bay and Ten Mile Lake, Eel Lake, and beaches from Horsfall to Sunset with Bastendorf in between.

Am a beach guy? I’m beach friendly.

I’m the lookout for sneaker waves, king tides, and rolling logs.

Call me beach vigilant.

No one has accused me of being the fun guy at the beach.

Once at Cannon Beach I heard loud cow moo sounds.

This was a week after the Spring Break Quake of ’93 with a tsunami predicted for the coast.

Someone said the cow moo at high decibel was a tsunami alert.

I didn’t hear them say it was a trial as I shifted into high gear packing the car and kids while my wife relaxed.

 

Wife: What is wrong with you?

Me: Just packing the car, honey.

(At a hundred miles an hour.)

 

The was during an old year long passed.

Today, tomorrow, and for the foreseeable future, I’m the calming influence.

I’ll be part of the band playing on the Titanic, using my timing and circular breathing until the last possible moment.

Since I’m not planing a boat ride, and I’m a guitar player not a wind instrument, that last possible moment is out there beyond threat.

Let’s keep it there, shall we? (Hey Rob)