{"id":12090,"date":"2016-12-29T09:59:56","date_gmt":"2016-12-29T14:59:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/?p=12090"},"modified":"2016-12-29T09:59:56","modified_gmt":"2016-12-29T14:59:56","slug":"new-years-eve-in-my-boring-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thundercloud.net\/infoave\/new\/new-years-eve-in-my-boring-life\/","title":{"rendered":"New Year’s Eve In My Boring Life"},"content":{"rendered":"New Year’s Eve In My Boring Life<\/h1>\n
If you like pointed hats, confetti, and cocktails, then I suggest you not read any further; for I am the Ebenezer Scrooge of New Year\u2019s Eve. If there were such things as ghosts of New Year\u2019s past, present and future, they certainly would have haunted me by now.<\/p>\n
I suppose it all began somewhere back in my childhood. Being subjected to Lawrence Welk, Guy Lombardo or whoever it was that entertained the masses on New Year\u2019s Eve long ago, I\u2019m certain set the stage for what was to become a life-long dread of New Year\u2019s Eve. Well, maybe \u201cdread\u201d is the wrong word. Maybe I\u2019m just jaded, but somehow watching zillions of people watching a ball drop at the stroke of midnight on New Year\u2019s eve just seems a bit ridiculous. It makes me want to scream \u201cGet a life!\u201d If you know what I mean. I\u2019m sure all those New Yorkers who hoot and kiss in Times Square on New Year\u2019s Eve would chortle uncontrollably if they ever spent a day living my boring life.<\/p>\n
Walk a mile in my shoes, New Yorkers and you\u2019ll die of boredom\u2026 I\u2019m certain of it! No Orange Julius, no $840.00 dinners, no skyscrapers (the highest building in my town is the courthouse which is about 93 feet tall), no \u201cescort services\u201d, no revolving doors, not a single escalator and only one elevator in the whole of my little town.<\/p>\n
Awful, just awful, isn\u2019t it? Can they even spell B O R I N G in New York?<\/p>\n
Keep in mind that I live in a rural area of Ohio, where a shopping trip to Wal-mart is considered entertainment and eating dinner at KFC or Burger King is considered a night out, especially if you have those new dippers with the hot sauce at KFC \u2013 or the chicken fries at Burger King. Talk about walking on the wild side. New York ain\u2019t got nothing on us!<\/p>\n
The big local hangout for those under thirty is “Waldo’s\u201d and I\u2019m not kidding! Where’s Waldo? I don’t know!<\/p>\n
For most of us small-town folk over thirty, the sidewalks roll up at dark \u2013 and this time of year the it gets REALLY REALLY DARK, REALLY EARLY. A \u201cNew Yorker\u201d I\u2019m not. But, you know what? As boring as my life is, I like it and that\u2019s all that matters to me. I\u2019m not made for revolving doors, hot dog carts, and Orange Julius. I sure don\u2019t have $15,000 to pay an Escort Service. The only escort service we have in my little town is “Meals on Wheels”. They escort old folks like me to the feeding trough. The other kind of escort service? We don\u2019t have those things here.<\/p>\n
I think the nearest revolving door is in Cleveland \u2013 but I\u2019m not sure they are there anymore either since the downtown department stores have all gone belly up and turned into Casino\u2019s. I don\u2019t like hot dogs unless they are connected with a baseball game and if Orange Julius lives in my town I am not aware of it. I\u2019m sorry Julius. So, New Yorkers, I have a life even if you don\u2019t think I do. I think therefore I have a life?<\/p>\n
When I was a kid, midnight was a rather mysterious event. I only saw it once a year. And, you guessed it, that once a year was New Year\u2019s Eve. I can remember thinking that strange things must happen at midnight. Ghouls and other creepies must awaken then to terrorize all those who venture out at that odd hour. But on New Year\u2019s Eve, there are sooooooo many people awake at midnight. No doubt these millions were kept awake by the exciting showmanship of Lawrence Welk or Guy Lombardo, or whoever graced the television screen in those days \u2013 gosh, I\u2019m showing my old age!<\/p>\n
Perhaps the lilting accent of Lawrence Welk or the squealing of Guy Lombardo\u2019s orchestra\u2019s muted trumpets kept the goblins and ghosties at bay. Lawrence Welk? Guy Lombardo? These annoying people no doubt kept Goblins and ghosts home on New Year\u2019s eve, because when I went out at midnight to hear the neighbor shoot his 12-gauge shotgun, there were no scary things floating around in the air at all. Just a lot of noise.<\/p>\n
And maybe some buckshot.<\/p>\n
New Year\u2019s Eve was the only midnight hour I was ever allowed to experience. I could only assume that the spooky spirits resumed their nightly haunting the following night and every night \u2013 except for New Year\u2019s Eve. I was glad for that. Maybe secretly I was also glad for Lawrence Welk, although looking back, I find that difficult to believe.<\/p>\n
Many nights, unbeknownst to my parents, I would awaken at 2:00 or 3:00AM (an ungodly quiet hour for a kid) and in the winter I would wish for the furnace to come on to make some noise to mask the sounds of the ghouls and goblins I imagined were skulking in the night just outside my bedroom window. (Today that’s accepted and it’s called ‘white noise’.) I had a transistor radio in those days too. A prized possession. But, in those days at 3:00AM there was nothing on the air but static (and occasionally WLS in Chicago which infrequently could be heard in my little town). That was fine. The furnace and the radio worked fine for masking the sounds of a child\u2019s imagination.<\/p>\n
Now, when people want some noise in the night so they can\u2019t hear the goblins and ghouls and the guilt \u2013 they call it white noise. I guess they call it white noise because it\u2019s meant to blot out the dark things?<\/p>\n
Did I actually invent ‘white noise’ ?<\/p>\n
In the summer, though, the transistor radio\u2019s static was the only noise I could find to mask the sounds of creepy things; we had no air conditioning \u2013 no one I knew did. I used to stick the thing (the transistor radio!) under my pillow and listen to the static unless WLS was coming in clearly that night. I\u2019d fall asleep to the static, certain that unimaginable creatures skulked furtively in the quiet hours of the night and making weird noises just trying to scare little boys like me. I actually liked the sound of the furnace better than the static, though. But, both served their purposes. They masked the sounds of the dark and fearsome things that stalked all children who dared to be awake in those wee adult hours of the morning.<\/p>\n
Yes, indeed midnight is a strange thing to a child with a wild and unbridled imagination. Even so, getting to stay up until midnight on New Year\u2019s Eve was a treat back then.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m grown-up now. Heck, I admit it. I’m creaky and old. My childhood just a fuzzy memory. Midnight is just another hour. No creepy weird things floating just outside my window anymore. No specters, no ghosts, no apparitions; no mysteries at all \u2013 just the silent darkness in the quiet hours \u2013 alone with my grown-up thoughts, regrets and worries. Maybe those are ghosts and goblins of a different kind.<\/p>\n
These days we don\u2019t have to subject our children to Lawrence Welk, Guy Lombardo, or whoever entertained my grandparents and parents (and bored me to death) in those days. For a long time we had Dick Clark and \u201cNew Year\u2019s Rockin\u2019 Eve\u201d \u2013 although Dick is now dead and can\u2019t be with us anymore; we get an imitation Dick Clark, and they audaciously still call it “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve”.<\/p>\n
Speaking of Dick Clark, and no disrespect for the dearly departed, there was something unnatural about someone who was 75 and looked 35. Do they really make make-up that good? Where can I buy it? Who makes it? Could I afford it?<\/p>\n
We have giant apples, or balls or whatever, falling down poles in Times Square where zillions of people jump around and grin as the camera pans the crowd \u2013 all, seemingly, with nothing better to do than watch a big globe glide down a pole and pronounce one year has ended and another year has begun.<\/p>\n
Now give us a kiss.<\/p>\n
I am amazed that millions watch this on TV. Even my friends and acquaintances watch the this crazy ritual. Where\u2019s the remote? What\u2019s on the History Channel? What\u2019s on Discovery? What\u2019s on PBS? Spare me New York, Times Square, and the big apple. New Year\u2019s Eve? Bah Humbug!<\/p>\n
Not to be outdone by New York, there\u2019s a little town not far from me called Port Clinton. And it\u2019s quite a raucous place in the summertime, full of yuppies, would-be yuppies, and bald, old men in red convertibles looking for twenty-somethings impressed\u00a0by money.<\/p>\n
But in the winter, it\u2019s freezing, damp, nearly deserted, and quiet. An awful place , really. It\u2019s one redeeming quality in winter is that it is QUIET. I had to shout that out. It\u2019s quiet, that is, until New Year\u2019s Eve. Port Clinton is in close proximity to the Lake Erie Islands (Kelley\u2019s, Put-In-Bay, Rattlesnake, Middle Bass, Pelee, et. al) and hence it\u2019s a summertime hotspot (no pun intended) for boaters, party-animals, and anyone who seeks a wild, semi-uninhibited time on the wild, jumpin\u2019 islands smack-dab in the middle of Lake Erie.<\/p>\n
In case you are wondering, there are no nude beaches on the Lake Erie, at least not on the U.S. side. Our Canadian friends on the north shores of Lake Erie are more open-minded and may have some nude beaches, but I don\u2019t know. Perhaps some of you Canadians who live in close proximity to Lake Erie could let us know \u2013 not that I would ever go to one. I don\u2019t want to be mistaken for great white\u00a0whale.<\/p>\n
Did I actually invent ‘white noise’ ?<\/p>\n
![](\"http:\/\/thundercloud.net\/infoave\/images\/walleye3.jpg\")
Anyway, back in Port Clinton, Captain Wylie Walleye descends on a pole each New Year\u2019s Eve, much like the ball in New York. And the residents of Port Clinton, gather to watch a Walleye (cleverly named \u201cCaptain Wylie Walleye\u201d) glide down a pole at midnight. A Walleye is a fish. It is a fish that attracts a great many fisherman to Lake Erie, particularly the Western Basin. Somehow, no matter how odd this sounds to you, I\u2019d rather watch a six hundred pound, fiberglass Walleye named Captain Wylie Walleye glide down a pole in Port Clinton, in the bitter winter winds the blow in from Lake Erie (surrounded, no doubt, by non-cool people like myself) than I would watch a fiberglass, glass, or crystal, apple or ball or whatever they use now, slink its way down a pole in Times Square. I\u2019d be so lost in New York City surrounded by all those beautiful people, most of whom will be totally snookered by the time the apple\/ball whatever begins to fall.\u00a0Heck, I\u2019d even rather watch \u201cthe pickle\u201d drop in Dillsburg, Pa. You think I\u2019m kidding about the pickle and the walleye, but I\u2019m not. You can look it up. Doubt me, will you!<\/p>\n
Given my druthers though, I\u2019d \u201cdruther\u201d watch \u201cThe Secret Life of Bun Candy Bars\u201d on the Food Channel or \u201cMythbusters\u201d on the Discovery Channel or \u201cNova\u201d or \u201cNature\u201d on PBS. I\u2019d rather watch reruns of \u201cHouse\u201d. I\u2019d rather watch \u201cThe Wizard of Oz\u201d for the 200th time. I\u2019d rather watch a TV test pattern or listen to static on an old radio than watch all those silly people canoodling and cavorting while watching a ball\/apple\/globe slide slowly down a pole.<\/p>\n
Hey, it\u2019s my party and I can be bored if I want to.<\/p>\n
I just learned, too late, that no apple glides down the pole in New York, it\u2019s an apple. And I\u2019ve learned that ball is made of crystal. They should have taken the money they spent on the \u201ccrystal ball\u201d and fed some of New York\u2019s hungry kids. I bet for what that ball cost they could have fed a lot of them.<\/p>\n
No matter what you choose to do on New Year\u2019s Eve, it\u2019s fine with me. I\u2019m perfectly happy with my boring little life in my small boring town in Ohio.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll grab some Dei Fratelli Salsa (you should try it!), some fresh white corn tortilla chips, and swig down a couple of Diet Pepsi\u2019s (now without aspartame!) while watching \u201cHouse\u201d or \u201cEverybody Loves Raymond\u201d reruns. Or maybe I\u2019ll just read a good John Grisham or Nelson DeMille book. One thing I will bet you\u2026 I\u2019ll bet you I\u2019m asleep on the couch before midnight. The New Year will be waiting when I get up. I won\u2019t have a hangover, that\u2019s for sure. Nor will I have any embarrassing memories. At least, I hope not!<\/p>\n
Looking at the big picture, as they like to say, it seems that some people just need an excuse to party. New Year\u2019s Eve and Saint Patrick\u2019s Day come to mind as some of the best excuses to revel in excess. How much does the good Saint Patrick have to do with Saint Patrick\u2019s Day? I\u2019m almost certain he didn\u2019t invent green beer or any other color of beer. But, if you want to party, go ahead. Any day will do. You don\u2019t need to have your party certified by the masses do you? Grab a bottle and go wild \u2013 you don\u2019t need the approval of St. Patrick our the swilling zillions in Times Square. Be your own person!<\/p>\n
Whether you decide to watch the ball drop on TV or go to New York to watch it (heaven forbid). Or if you choose to venture to Port Clinton, Ohio to watch the walleye fall into the new year, you\u2019ll still get up the next day, on January 1st, in the New Year and realize that the \u201cHoliday Season\u201d is over and it\u2019s back to normal until next December.<\/p>\n
To me that\u2019s kind of sad. It seems like the best thing about waiting for anything is the anticipation of it. Most of the time when it finally comes or we finally get what we have waited for, it\u2019s never as good as we expect. Maybe having isn\u2019t as good as wanting.<\/p>\n
To me, New Year\u2019s Eve brings with it the morose thought that I\u2019m one year closer to my own demise. Certainly not something I want to celebrate. I mean who likes to dwell on their own mortality? Who needs to be reminded? Not me! Yet New Year\u2019s Eve and New Year\u2019s Day often find me comtemplating the end of days for me.<\/p>\n
While I\u2019m a big fan of Christmas, I am not a fan of New Year\u2019s Eve. It\u2019s too noisy and phony for me. Scientifically the earth has made one more trip around the sun. The date of \u201cNew Year\u2019s Day\u201d was arbitrarily assigned by man. Different cultures and different religions have different dates for New Year\u2019s Day. New Year\u2019s Eve? Bah! Humbug!<\/p>\n
If you are a New Year\u2019s Eve fan \u2013 hey, that\u2019s great. If you want to grab your pointed party hat, hoo-hoo horn, streamers, confetti, Glenfiddich and spring water \u2013 and festively honk and party your way into the New Year, that\u2019s wonderful! More power to you! I just wont be hoo-hooing with you.<\/p>\n
And, if you\u2019re one of the ones who feel left out of it all; out-of-synch with the masses as you gaze upon the beautiful people with their perma-smiles flashing \u2013 hooting and hollering in Times Square or partying in Beverly Hills \u2013 just think of me. I\u2019ll be having a quiet New Year\u2019s Eve here in a small town Ohio. I will give \u201cNew Year\u2019s Eve\u201d as little thought as possible.<\/p>\n
One more thing: As boring as it will seem to many who probably feel sorry for me by now, I will enjoy it. I will enjoy it as much as any other relaxing evening. And just maybe there\u2019s more people like me than I think. And if so, perhaps we are the majority who think New Year\u2019s Eve is more hype than substance \u2013 just another lame excuse to party. Maybe it\u2019s really not so much of the celebration of a new year as it is an excuse to act silly.<\/p>\n
New Year\u2019s Eve is just another day in my boring life. But, my boring life is just how I want it to be.<\/p>\n