My First "Remember Where Were You When So-So" Happened Moment

Everyone has a “remember where you when so-so happened moment.” Most of them, if not all, are ones that brought the nation and possibly the world to a halt. The Hindenburg. Pearl Harbor. JFK’s and John Lennon’s assassinations. Challenger. O.J. Simpson’s Bronco chase and not guilty verdict. 9/11.

For me, my first remember where you when moment happened locally on the afternoon of May 25, 1979. I don’t think I’d be far calling the moment Chicago’s 9/11 when American Airlines Flight 191 with 272 passengers and crew aboard crashed into a nearby hangar and trailer park 31 seconds after takeoff from Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport killing all aboard and two more on the ground after its left engine separated as the aircraft taxied down runway 32R.

Unlike the passengers and crew aboard the doomed DC-10 bound for Los Angeles who no doubt had holiday plans that three-day weekend in what officially marked the start of summer, I had nothing on my agenda. My being only nine-years-old then I am not even sure what an agenda was. What I did know upon coming home from school at 2:30 that Friday afternoon is that I didn’t expect to be glued to WLS-TV channel 7 news.

Living in Chicago at the time, Channel 7 news was my preferred station (in Dallas, Texas where I live now, the local station is WFAA on channel 8). I watched veteran news anchors Fahey Flynn (with his signature bowtie) and Joel Daly anchor the special report back and forth from the news desk to the live coverage from eyewitness reporters on the scene at the northwest corner of Lee and Touhy Avenues near the airport.

The first images I saw on TV were of billowing black and white smoke as first responders descended within minutes of the crash only to be told within almost a half hour of their immediate arrival their rescue services would not be needed.

The scenes seen live of the smoldering remains of what was a DC-10 and then the next morning on the front covers of the Chicago Tribune and Chicago Sun-Times that showed a front landing gear, the tail engine and a piece of fuselage that landed on a trailer home, let alone the left engine lying on runway 32R were not what haunted me. Not even the photos of first responders placing numbered flags at the crash site marking fatalities who would soon be moved to a makeshift hangar to serve as a morgue near the airport.

The picture, taken by pilot Michael Laughlin, was what would haunt me. The shot would join other infamous front-page photos of troubled jetliners that got readers attention seconds before disaster struck that would of course include 9/11, Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 182 in September 1978 and Air France Flight 4590 in July 2000.

My morbid interest in the nation’s worst air disaster would not come up again until 15 years later on Halloween night October 31, 1994. For some reason early that day my mind was on American Airlines Flight 191. I couldn’t put my finger on it as to why other than the fact my parents were coming back from Chicago that night after visiting my grandparents in the “Windy City.”

While I didn’t think anything tragic was going to happen to my parents aboard the flight coming home, I still had this ominous feeling something else was going to happen that night.

When I came home on a lunch break from work, mom told me that an American Eagle twin engine Aerospatiale ATR-72 carrying 68 passengers and crew went down in a field in Roselawn, Indiana killing all aboard.

This wasn’t the first time I found the events surrounding the May 25 jet crash to be more than just a series of coincidences.

Wreckage of Delta Airlines Flight 191 - 8/2/85

I’d have thought nothing when DFW like Chicago experienced its own 9/11 moment six years after the O’Hare jet crash the early evening of August 2, 1985. During Friday evening rush-hour traffic, a Delta Airlines Lockheed L-1011 TriStar arriving from Fort Lauderdale, Florida crashed in a freak thunderstorm as it attempted to land at Dallas/ Fort Worth International Airport killing 137 passengers and crew and one on the ground. Of the 163 aboard, 24 survivors, all of whom sat in the charred tail section which was intact upon impact survived.

The number assigned to the ill-fated L-1011 was “191.”

Mention Lee and Touhy Avenues let alone May 25, 1979, to someone and chances are they will have no idea why you’d even mention the place or date. They wouldn’t understand the significance.

Lee and Touhy Avenues, let alone O’Hare airport are not Pearl Harbor, Dealey Plaza, Oklahoma City, the World Trade Center or the Pentagon. Lightbulbs don’t immediately turn on when one mentions May 25, 1979, the way one knows what happened and where they were on Dec. 7, 1941, Nov. 22, 1963, or 9/11.

The ones who know the significance of Lee and Touhy Avenues if not May 25, 1979, are those like me who lived in Chicago at the time and recall the eyewitness news reports, the front pages of the city’s newspapers in the days to follow, and/or knew someone aboard the flight.

For a lot of people Memorial Day weekend is nothing more than another holiday to mark the beginning of summer vacation – a chance to hold family barbecues.

Memorial Day is not, however, like July 4 or Labor Day. The holiday has always been a time to honor the men and women who died during their service in the U.S. military. The day has never been a time for celebrations.

For the families of the 274 lost over four decades years that sunny Chicago afternoon, the three-day weekend is as much a time for mourning and reflection as it is for the ones who died in the line of duty.

©5/25/26

As emotionally cold and distant as the ice the hockey players compete on

Miracle ««½
PG, 135m. 2004

Cast & Credits: Kurt Russell (Herb Brooks), Patricia Clarkson (Patty Brooks), Noah Emmerich (Craig Patrick), Sean McCann (Walter Bush), Kenneth Welsh (Doc Nagobads), Eddie Cahill (Jim Craig), Patrick O’Brien Demsey (Mike Eruzione). Screenplay by Eric Guggenheim. Directed by Gavin O’Connor.

Midway through "Miracle", based on the true story of Coach Herb Brooks who led the United States hockey team to victory against the Soviet Union in the 1980 Olympics, is a moment where a few players want to have a word with their headstrong leader: stoically played by Kurt Russell.

The teammates are concerned about Brooks’ sudden decision to bring on a much more experienced hockey player to the group. Their concern is understandable. It’s bad enough knowing, as Brooks’ makes it perfectly clear at the beginning of the film, that only 20 of the 26 players he’s chosen can go to the Olympics and that as the weeks and months get closer, six of them will be let go. Some of the players have already bought their parents tickets to see them play. Now they have to worry about a guy who’s got enough experience in the game that they must wonder which of them will be cut for sure?

Brooks will hear none of it until finally, one of them speaks up and says the reason for their concern is because they are all like a family.

I have no doubt that what this team went through in the months before going up against a Soviet team who was not just our rival when it came to the Olympics (they won the Gold medal four times in 1964, ’68, ’72 and '76) but also our enemy when it came to world affairs made this group a close-knit family. I didn’t get that kind of closeness, however, watching the film.

"Miracle" is not only bogged down with familiar plot clichés of sports’ movies past that include Russell’s Brooks’ who is determined to get what had been denied him back when he was the same age as his players. There are rival team members who fight amongst themselves and have personal problems of their own. And Brooks’ loving wife (Patricia Clarkson) who stands by her man even though he tends to brush her aside letting his feelings for the game get in the way.

The film is also emotionally distant and at times, as icily cold as the rink the players compete on, or as chilly as the snowy weather gets at Lake Placid. Every time an emotional moment comes on, especially in the case of Russell’s character, something happens that keeps him from saying how he really feels.

That’s not to say "Miracle" isn’t without its surprising moments, many of which are ironically provided by Russell who steals the show, which stands to reason since he is after all the coach. In particular is a great scene where immediately following the team’s loss in Sweeden, Brooks orders all the players on the ice to practice skating drills long after the lights in the stadium have been turned off.

I tried hard to embrace "Miracle", almost as hard as Brooks works his team to the brink of exhaustion. It’s obvious the kind of mood the film’s studio, Walt Disney, was pushing for; to give us a feel good movie where we’re not just left in our seats cheering but perhaps maybe even shed a tear. You can tell this has the makings of a Disney movie just by the way the hockey games are shot. We see players ramming each other while others are hit so hard they fall into the stands. But there is no sense of excitement here, not to mention very little blood.

Imagine, for example, how director Oliver Stone would have handled shooting such action sequences. It’s a good bet I would have literally heard the sickening sounds of bodies colliding together the way I heard bones breaking in his ode to the NFL, "Any Given Sunday" (1999). Stone would have probably incorporated a time clock at the bottom corner of the screen to put us on edge as the game time gets closer to zero. He might have even provided us with a puck’s eye view as it is passed around from player to player before finally arriving at its final destination; the goal.

We get practically none of that here as the team plays several different games leading up to the climax. The mood director Gavin O’Connor and screenwriter Eric Guggenheim wanted to leave the audience with was a winning combination of both hope and pride in light of such depressing events as Watergate, the Cold War, and the Iran Hostage Crisis. Events of which gave Americans a feeling of uncertainty in the 1970s.

The problem in viewing this film is it’s hard to get past the fact a lot has changed in the 20 plus years since the 1980 Olympics. Russia is no longer our enemy. If this film had come out at around the time "Rocky IV" (1985) did back in the mid-1980s where Stallone’s Italian Stallion was seen going up against a towering Russian boxer and where our relations with the Soviet Union were still on shaky ground, I might have felt a little differently.

I know there are those who read this review will say I am being a little too hard on this movie suggesting I give the Mickey Mouse studio a break and say, “It’s Disney for God’s sake. They’re just trying to cater to the masses, hence their PG rating. "Miracle" is supposed to be a family film.”

The bottom line is I’ve seen far better sports movies that could also be deemed family films and also boasted the PG rating. They have not only either kept me on edge but also left me cheering and maybe even brought a tear to my eye. "Remember the Titans" (2000) was made by Disney and perhaps part of what made that movie work, aside from good acting was the fact Jerry Bruckheimer produced it.

The one film I associated "Miracle" with most was 1987’s basketball movie, "Hoosiers", simply because it had the same plot elements. In that film, which was also loosely based on a true story, Gene Hackman played a coach trying to redeem himself leading a high school basketball team who were faced with impossible odds. I got choked up when that movie ended as the camera focused on the photo of the team and you heard Hackman’s coach saying, “I love you guys.”

By comparison, "Miracle" is about a team who was also faced with impossible odds. This was a group of guys whose average age, as sportscaster Al Michaels said, was 21 years old and were going up against a rival team who had been playing hockey for 15 years or more. These Russian hockey players were towering monsters compared to the Americans. The fact the U.S.A. beat them not only made for an incredible victory but obviously a great story.

I would have loved to have been cheering the words, “U.S.A!” the way the spectators did back in 1980 when they watched our country’s team and the Soviets square off against each other. I would have been proud to have known this small close-knit family of hockey players as Aerosmith’s Dream On was heard playing during the end credits revealing what the real-life hockey players are doing today.

I admit I did kind of get choked up in the end of "Miracle" but it was for all the wrong reasons. For a movie that’s promoted to be a feel-good picture, the only emotion I was left with was one of lingering sadness over the fact Herb Brooks died shortly before filming began.

Originally Published 2/6/04

©2/23/26

Question should NOT be what will I give up for Lent but WILL I

Today begins the season of Lent.

Lent is that time of year Christians all over the world and us “lapsed Catholics” or “Chreasters” like me who according to the Urban Dictionary is defined as “someone who only goes to church on Christmas and Easter” are supposed to give up some vice we can’t live without the next forty days beginning on Ash Wednesday until Easter Sunday when Jesus Christ rose from the dead.

According to Christianity.com Lent is defined as the time Christ spent forty days and nights in the desert without food and water being tempted by Satan.

In short, we Christians are supposed to follow by Jesus’ example as a means to cleanse our sins (I haven't been to confession since Christmas Eve 1993) and be closer to God. According to crosswalk.com, however it seems Jesus Christ got the better end of the stick. His battle with Satan lasted only 40 days. In 2026 our time of fasting and giving up that one little thing between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday lasts 46 days.

Doesn’t seem fair, does it?

To be truthful, I have never taken Lent seriously which dates back to my early years in grade school at St. Louise de Marillac (1976-1984) being taught by the nuns. For much of the time from first grade to my entering junior high that’s all I heard from dad who asked me “what am I giving up for Lent?” God not only knows what I supposedly planned to give up but also knows how long it took for me to go back on my word hours later and scarf down candy, cookies and soft drinks.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve compared to my giving up something for Lent to the list of New Year’s resolutions I make up on December 31 as midnight approaches that I plan to accomplish the coming year. Every year the result is the same. I do not complete that list of resolutions, nor do I give up anything for Lent.

This year, however, I decided to take Lent seriously. I can’t explain the sudden change of heart except maybe the older one gets (certainly not the wiser in my case) one’s interests and attitudes change.

I remember the priest saying at an Ash Wednesday mass I attended one year how the one thing you give up for Lent should be something you can’t live without.

I’ve got less than half a handful of things I could go without the next six weeks.

Taking the Lord’s name in vain is one. God knows just how many times I say the “G” word multiple times on a daily basis whenever that Italian/Hispanic temper of mine kicks into overdrive – usually at work or behind the wheel.

Finding something else to say when venting my anger would indeed be a struggle if I gave that up. If I did so successfully the next six weeks, perhaps it will score me some brownie points with St. Peter as he goes through my long list of wrongdoings debating whether or not to let me through the pearly gates when I become one with the “Dark Side of The Force” and am called home by either the Almighty or 666.

I could give up diet cokes. I sometimes drink two or three a day. I know my liver and pancreas would appreciate it. So too would my doctor given my being diabetic in hopes my A1C blood sugar levels gets below six versus the 18 plus level it's been at for a while.

I could give up working the next six weeks and act like I am working. It’d be a great test to see how long I could get away with that.

I could give up pizza and pasta. The servers at Joe’s Pizza and Pizza Getti might miss me given how I always show up a couple days week and know exactly what I order and where I like to sit.

Such are the things I could give up for Lent with the exception of not working. I was only kidding on that one despite what the powers-that-be at work will say during their little private “Come to Jesus” meetings they schedule with me often.

I only know two things that will happen today - Feb. 18. One is whatever I give up that’s between me and God – yet another thing I heard a priest say which is whatever we give up should be private.

The other is I what I plan to eat after mass that day, if I go. My meal will either be a couple fish sandwiches from McDonalds with extra tartar sauce, a salmon bowl with rice and veggies at Red Lobster or assuming I don’t give up pasta for Lent, a large plate of angel hair with extra marinara sauce at Joe's Pizza (since I can’t eat meat that day).

Hopefully when the server asks what I want to drink I won’t say a Diet Coke and out of habit wind up drinking it not realizing that that might have been what I planned to give up.

That wouldn’t be a good start to the season of Lent now, would it?

©2/18/26

Gone too soon: John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr. (1960-1999), Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy (1966-1999) and Lauren Bessette (1964-1999)

Writer's note: I'll address producer Ryan Murphy's latest nine-part episode "biographical" FX series, "Love Story," airing Feb. 12 (just in time for Valentine's Day) that covers the too-short lives of John F. Kennedy Jr. and his wife, Carolyn Bessette at a later time, if ever. 

As I posted under the heading, "ABOUT THIS SITE" I created this blog to write on subjects I want to talk about. "Not what the rest of the country and the world feels is the flavor of the day!" 

That being said, here is my tribute article I wrote back on 7/21/99 following the iconic couple's untimely ends along with Carolyn's sister, Lauren, that feels more appropriate than whatever embellishments Murphy's FX series conjures up as the "truth."

To those who were old enough and watched President Kennedy’s funeral in November 1963 to those who weren’t alive yet or too young to remember but have seen the historic yet heart breaking photo, John Fitzgerald Kennedy Jr. will forever be known as the little three-year-old son of the late president who saluted his father’s coffin as it rolled by that Thanksgiving weekend almost 36 years ago.

Today, that is still how I see him.

The sad, tragic weekend that began the night of July 16 was like a macabre, nightmarish sense of déjà vu that recalled the night Princess Diana was killed in a car crash in France in August 1997.

The way Princess Diana in 1997 and now JFK Jr, his wife, Carolyn Bessette, and her sister, Lauren, died are so similar, it is almost eerie. Both occurred in the summer and on weekends. I was at work when it was announced on the radio that Princess Diana, along with her boyfriend, Dodi Al Fayed, and their driver, Henri Paul, died in a car accident. I did not learn about the latest tragedy to strike the Kennedy family until Saturday afternoon when I turned on the TV and saw live coverage of naval ships and helicopters at sea off Martha’s Vineyard searching for something.

I had no idea what. For about ten minutes or so, the news coverage seemed like a cruel joke in light that July 17 was the day TWA Flight 800 exploded over the Atlantic three years ago killing 230 passengers and crew. I immediately figured the worst that maybe another jetliner had gone down. But then below the television screen came the words “JFK Jr’s Plane Missing” and to Americans, to me, and to the world, it was as if more than 200 souls were lost again that day.

It did not take long for the country to react to the news. New Yorkers laid flowers, memorial cards, and tributes down outside JFK Jr’s and his wife’s Tribeca apartment where the two lived in much the way people did outside Buckingham Palace when Diana died. Hundreds more visitors poured in at the graves of the late president and his wife, Jackie, at Arlington National Cemetery and at the Sixth Floor Museum, formerly known as the Texas School Book Depository in Downtown Dallas. Some wrote condolences in guest books. Others wept.

Like Diana who was dubbed in the press as “The People’s Princess”, flags were flown at half-staff for “The People’s Prince.” Outside the Kennedy compound in Hyannis Port, Ma., mourners left flowers while the press sat and waited to see which family members would come out next. Not even Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg, now the last surviving and most private heir to Camelot, could escape the media glare as she and her family awaited news at their own home on Long Island and began to make what has become an all-too-familiar scene for America’s most prominent first family, funeral arrangements. When she and her husband came out of seclusion a few days after the crash, the couple took a bike ride followed by the press. It was the couple’s 13th wedding anniversary.

It all seems a little silly yet poignant. Like Diana, why did Americans grieve over someone they never met but felt they knew through past press coverage and photographs? Perhaps they grieved over how tragic it was for such well-liked celebrities to lose their lives so unexpectedly at such an early age. Their life stories were biographies only half finished.

It seems by all news accounts, JFK Jr. lived life to the fullest dating various models and well-known Hollywood icons like Daryl Hannah before marrying Carolyn Bessette in 1996, playing sports, and trying different things that included flying. But it seemed the man, who People magazine called “The Sexiest Man Alive” years ago, was still trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life whether it should be in politics or continue working as an assistant district attorney in Manhattan while involving himself in various charities.

Then in October 1995, he created and became editor-in-chief of George, a struggling magazine that parodied and treated politics as entertainment and featured several female celebrities on the front covers from Cindy Crawford and Madonna to Drew Barrymore and most recently, Salma Hayek. But there was a serious side to the publication as well. Over the course of the magazine’s three and half years, JFK Jr. interviewed such figureheads that included Gerald Ford, Colin Powell, George Wallace, and Louis Farrakhan.

Now the magazine is a collector’s item. The current issue out at bookstores immediately sold out the week of the tragedy and it is also being reported that the publication, whose profits have been down for some time, will likely fold. I will not be surprised if back issues of George are sold at used bookstores for $20 behind the counter inside plastic see-thru bags next to the July 1997 $20 issue of Vanity Fair that featured Diana on the front cover posing in a dress later auctioned off at Sotheby’s.

Now we are left asking ourselves, what would the future have held for the trio had they lived? Perhaps JFK Jr. would have pursued politics and run for public office like his father and uncles before him. Perhaps Carolyn would have involved herself in various note worthy causes. While Lauren would have lived her own life staying out of the media spotlight.

As the coast guard, navy ships and divers continued their “search and retrieval” efforts off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard, there was a certain sense of false hope in the back of my mind. I kept thinking the three were alive on some remote island awaiting rescue.

I knew the inevitable result as did everyone else. The search though, which ended July 21, finally brought a sense of closure for the Kennedy and Bessette families and for Americans. Days after the crash, we were told by the press what might have happened in those last moments as the private plane made its deadly descent. Questions have arisen over whether JFK Jr., who just received his pilot’s license last year, was experienced enough to fly at night.

It would be easy to say the fates of JFK Jr.; his wife and her sister could have been avoided. Some think it is a “Kennedy curse.”

Originally Published ©7/21/99

©2/11/26

My number one New Year’s resolution for 2026 is…

Last week’s blog I wrote how I don’t take New Year’s resolutions seriously got me thinking despite my beliefs on the subject there are a few things I have been needing to do the past several years but never had the energy to begin much less complete them.

As I came up with that list of things to complete for 2026, I came up with what should be my one and only resolution for this year. Read on if you wish to know what that is, if you even care.

Here are nine things I plan to complete in 2027 and one resolution I will follow. A few of these I’ve already started.

1) Attend church services again every Sunday (or at least make an effort): I’ve attended church services off on this past year which is more than what I’ve done in previous years. Just not every Sunday like I’m supposed to. I’ve come to the realization, however, if I can’t find anything better to do on Sunday mornings then I might as well spend an hour in God’s house and pray I get through another week at work. Perhaps sometime this year I’ll go to confession. I haven’t been to confession since Christmas Eve 1994. My soul is pretty filthy to quote the nuns I had who taught me at St. Louise de Marillac school in La Grange Park, Ill. which closed after 62 years in 2020. I’ve a feeling my “soul” needs a major cleansing.

2) Blogging: I’ve always planned on doing a weekly blog addressing some topic I want to talk about and not what everyone in the country thinks is the flavor of the day. Time has gotten in the way of that. (I don’t get paid to blog you know!). I have been told by people the past two decades or more how my writing talents are wasted in my current job and continue to be so going on 30 years now though writing is an integral part of my work (I have to take good notes in the tickets even if it just says, “called person – went to voicemail – left message.”) This year is not only time for me to start blogging on a weekly basis but also put my writing where my mouth is and see if my talent takes me somewhere because I’ll be damned if I’m going to do my current job until retirement when there will be no social security for me to collect…which brings me to number 3.

3) Career Change: It’s not too late to make a change no matter how old I am. Money don’t buy happiness. All money does is make you do things you don’t want to do. The secret to enjoying life is doing something you enjoy doing even if it doesn’t pay well. I have no idea what my destiny is, but I know it’s definitely NOT what I’m doing now. It’s time to get a “real” job where I don’t feel like I need to take a vacation from!

4) Classes: I have tried numerous times over the years to take classes but have rarely finished. It’s hard to balance four classes and a 40-hour-a-week job I’m burned out on and yet I am not married with children, nor do I have a girlfriend in state. Yet the classes I’ve attempted to complete feel like I am working an additional 40 hours just to do the classwork. I am registered for four classes again this spring semester. I think the difference now versus previous years is I am more determined to finish my classes this time around and perhaps in the next two years or less get a degree as backup that is in addition to writing/blogging. Those of you, however, who work, are married and/or single with kids and taking four classes or more I have only one question. How the f--- do you do it????

5) Drain the Swamp: When it comes to worldly possessions you don’t take this crap with you when you die. Unless you are an Egyptian who believed like the pharaohs did and had all their possessions buried with them in the pyramids to take to the underworld. I’ve started draining the swamp already. If I can’t get my hands on a lighthouse, which will probably cost me five times more to refurbish than it will be to buy it (I may just have to settle for the LEGO one for $299) I can do with living in a “tiny home” which are equivalent to those trailer parks tornados have intense love affairs with.

6) Eat out less: Not only am I finding eating out is ridiculously expensive but is also overrated. The service half the time sucks. The food looks nothing like what is advertised. Remember the breakfast scene in “Falling Down” (1993)? Hell, the appetizers cost just as much as the meal itself. I’m finding it is cheaper to either eat at home and/or bring your lunch to work. I think this year if I’m going to continue sending my blood sugars skyrocketing and the a1c to stay in the double digits which makes me a viable candidate for a stroke or heart attack I’m going to make it worth my while. In other words, I’ll eat “real” pizza. Cicis, Domino’s, Papa Johns, and Pizza Hut is not “real” pizza. Olive Garden is “egg noodles and ketchup” and I now call Subway “Jared’s.” Do your own research if you don’t know who “Jared” is.

7) Follow a budget: I’ve never set up a monthly budget in my life…until now! Talk about a rude awakening! As the sayings go, it’s not only never too late to start a new career but also never too late to start a budget as well.

8) Go somewhere…anywhere: I’ve not had a “real” vacation in years. I am overdue for one. I need one that can last 1000 years or more. Any ideas other than a trip to “The Undiscovered Country?”

9) Take my health slightly more seriously: While five visits to the hospital since 2015 for diabetes and/or COVID issues have failed to give me pause others I’m sure would wonder if I have a death wish. Fine! I’ll take this “pain-in-the-ass” disease I got more seriously than I have since being diagnosed in 2006, but you know, diabetes is like cancer, HIV/AIDS or any other major life-threatening ailment. It’s a slow death sentence. The medications only work for so long. At least I am no longer a 300-plus-pound whale. I now continue to weigh what I was when I graduated high school in 1988 – 180 - enough to the point I got people asking me if I’m sick. Last week someone I hadn’t seen since the mid-1990s told me how she not only remembered me back when I was overweight but also had hair.

10) Just do it! Hence my number one resolution for 2026. Instead of saying I’m going to do these things on my list that I’ve meant to get to the past several years I’m going to stop saying that and just do them. In other words, JUST DO IT!

Stay tuned to 12/30/26 when I reveal if I completed ALL these things. Or maybe not. After all, nowhere on this list did I mention anything about keeping my promises.

©1/7/26

Ringing in the new year as pointless as the time wasted making resolutions

If there is ever a holiday I don’t believe in celebrating, it’s New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. I find it equivalent to celebrating one’s birthday except I see nothing positive about it since both days mean you are now a year older and, in some cases, deeper in debt.

Not only do I not know the lyrics to “Auld Lang Syne” but I have never actually seen anyone band together to sing it seconds after the clock strikes midnight. I have only seen it happen in disaster movies like "The Poseidon Adventure" (1972) moments before the little boat in a bathtub was capsized by an immense tidal wave. And when Frank Sinatra and his rat pack buddies raided the safes of several Las Vegas casinos in the original "Ocean’s 11" (1960).

When you get right down to it, New Years Eve is nothing more than a petty excuse to go out and get plastered drunk with your friends or family. It’s a chance to watch whoever it is who now hosts the celebrations from New York’s Times Square as the lighted ball comes down at the stroke of midnight.

Perhaps if you are really drunk as a result of the night’s festivities, you might not remember the moment it became Jan. 1. Perhaps you are so inebriated that you ended up kissing a complete stranger and maybe even found yourself in bed with him, her or their pet the next morning.

Or maybe you forgot that list of New Year’s Resolutions already you made just hours earlier.

Yes resolutions – the kinds of goals you set only to break one or all your promises within the baby new year’s first few hours, if not days, weeks, or maybe months before that little infant grows up to be a grouchy old man.

Or do I have to bring up all those fitness commercials I see that air the month of December that urge one to start the new year off by creating the new you?

I can’t tell you how many years, and for all I know I have probably been hearing it since birth, how many times I have heard the statements, “You should make “that” your number one new year’s resolution” and “Have you come up with any resolutions you’d like to focus on for the new year?”

Perhaps the question which should be asked is how many of you as December comes to a close sit down to take less than 30 seconds, (all right a minute) to come up with ten goals or less that you’d like to accomplish in the coming year?  Don’t tell me you actually take such a trivial tradition seriously. I don’t. I don’t think I have ever wasted more than five minutes of my time taking a pointless stroll down memory lane the last week of the year to see what improvements I can make in my life.

Why should I take such a holiday seriously or resolutions for that matter? No one else does. According to a 1/3/11 article on time.com some of the top 10 commonly broken New Year’s resolutions which I have failed to follow on a yearly basis include lose weight and get fit, eat healthier and diet, get out of debt and save money, spend more time with family, and be less stressed.

There is only one reason why we celebrate the new year and no I don’t have time (nor the space here) to giving a history lesson about where New Year's Eve celebrations came from and the different traditions other countries have. You’ll have to do that on your own.

The only reason why we celebrate New Years Eve every 12 months is because that’s how long it takes for the earth to go around the sun. If we lived on Mercury, a typical year would be 88 days according to the website, www.stardate.com. Imagine that! Less than three months, the world gets to party “like it’s 1999” as Prince spoke of in his rock song. If it turns out he or she didn’t keep up with their resolutions of less than three months ago, they can just save the list and try again the next three months. And we wouldn’t have to worry about any cold weather.

What if we lived on Saturn, however, where the time it takes for the ringed planet to go around the sun is 29.5 earth years or in this case 360 months? That’s a long time to wait for New Year’s Eve to come along but if there is any consolation, that’s more than enough time for one to complete his or her resolutions thirty times over. People will have waited to party for so long that they’ll probably want to rest the next 30 years and not worry about making a list of goals. Perhaps the entire world will just take one big, long holiday that lasts the next 29.5 earth years.

I have never accomplished a single New Year's Resolution I have made over the years. Perhaps I’ll start now. The best goals to set are the ones you know you can keep so my one resolution for 2026 which I plan to keep the rest of my life, along with my refusal to celebrate Dec. 31 is I AM NOT MAKING ANY!

Happy New Year!

©12/31/25