Will 2020 be such a good year? The media, my friends… everyone says it must. The year of 2020 will bring 20-20 vision in our lives. Who wouldn’t want that?
I’ll turn 72 this year, no round figure. Joan won’t come up with a rounded birthday number either. We’re three years away from being married 50 years. So nothing really momentous happening that I should get excited about? Well, I did start, as I do each year, my one-month no-alcohol binge. It’s good for you, newspaper doctors claim, and I could lose a few pounds in the process, so why not. But thank goodness I expect to fall off the wagon after two, maximum three weeks, as I have done in all prior years. One shouldn’t be too hung up on those idealistic propositions.
Still, 2020 will be a great year, they promise. So nothing to worry about, I’m thinking, as I go down the “checklist.” Both of us are in good health and spirits. The kids and their families look and sound OK, at least as far as we can tell, and that’s good enough for now. The rains keep coming steadily so no need to transform our green garden into a desert landscape. The IRA’s did great last year and lately there has been little or no talk about Social Security going belly-up. It seems unlikely that the markets will continue this way, but who’ll pay me to worry? No one, I suspect, except if they can charge me a service fee.
I’m not changing anything this year. I’m resolute about that. Happiness is about being grateful for what you have, right? Wanting something better, bigger, something else, it can kill you. I’m thinking, I’m lucky, very lucky to be where I am. I’ll make sure to tell Joan that when I come home this evening. That’ll be my intention of the year, every time I come home, I’ll tell Joan how lucky I am.