Dear Friends, Family, Neighbors, and Those of You I Don’t Yet Know —
Welcome to the first New Year’s Day edition of Odd Company. I hope, dear readers, that your holiday season was as filled with wonderful moments as mine and John’s. We began ours with a pre-Christmas trip north along the coast to Point Reyes. This was pretty exciting, as it was one of the few times we’ve been away from home since John’s transplant. There we met up with friends for a few days of good company, good food, and good wine, plus a driving tour of the Point Reyes National Seashore, courtesy of Frank Binney. I suspect everybody who spends much time at Point Reyes knows Frank. He’s that kind of guy, and he sure understands the wildlife up there. What a thrill it is to spend ten minutes with a falcon on a fence post not twenty feet away, who looks you in the eye and seems completely serene! We also watched a badger hunting for gophers, and saw an elephant seal cooling itself, asleep at the tide line. (The weather was breezy and seemed chilly to me, but Frank said it was too warm for an elephant seal to do anything but sleep.) We saw a line of young male tule elk with beautiful antlers silhouetted against the sky.
We also saw an example of a nearly extinct species — the old-fashioned bookstore. Seriously! Point Reyes Books has been in continuous operation since 1969, over fifty years. It’s been so long since I’ve walked through a door and found myself lost among tables and shelves groaning with actual printed books. There are things Amazon just can’t offer, and one of them is a selection of wonderful books curated by a staff of knowledgeable readers. Another is the sheer sensory experience. Of course it’s the fragrances of ink, paper, and glue. But also the swaddling comfort of the narrow aisles and one’s fellow book lovers. When our son was little, one of our favorite family pastimes was to go to a bookstore after dinner to browse and pick out a few good books to bring home. We had many wonderful bookstores to choose from then, easy distances from where we lived. Almost all of them are gone now, and those that remain are pale ghosts of their former selves. It pains me that most children’s experience of books is now limited to libraries, and even the libraries are curtailing their hours or closing entirely. As with many things, today’s kids may never know what a wonderful experience they’re missing. Sure, I’m a writer and in love with books, but still…
At any rate, we sure had a great time. The day after we got home, our son and his wife arrived from Washington DC to celebrate Christmas with us. We don’t see them very often. The distance is a problem. And first the pandemic, then John’s lung problems, have kept us from flying as often as we once could. So we felt very fortunate indeed to have them with us to celebrate the holiday and brighten the gray days and the winter nights. There is nothing quite like being among people you love, and who love you.
To celebrate this moment between the end of one year and the beginning of another, I’ve chosen a very old song — “Auld Lang Syne.” The modern lyrics were written by the poet Robert Burns in 1788, but Burns’ poem was based on a much older Scottish folk song. The literal translation of auld lang syne is “old long since.” The song was traditionally sung on Hogmanay, the last day of the year, as a way of bidding farewell to the year just passed. It’s performed here by the Choral Scholars of the University College Dublin, who do a beautiful job of it.
Like many people, I take New Year’s Day as an opportunity to consider what I can do to improve matters in the coming year.
2024 is shaping up to be interesting, to say the least. Of course, there is the weather, which we can predict will be unpredictable. But it’s also an election year, and we can already see that it’s not going to be a normal election. Toss a few wildcards into the mix — like, say, artificial intelligence, wars, and natural disasters. Every society is a web of behaviors that have developed over time to make it possible for most people to lead peaceful, prosperous lives. These behaviors are a kind of glue that makes it easier for us to stick together when adversity strikes. Most of them are pretty simple rules, like keep your promises, don’t lie, don’t steal, treat others the way you’d like to be treated yourself. They are meant to foster trust, respect, and the ol’ Three Musketeers spirit — one for all, and all for one. Our social web is under a lot of strain right now due to rapid changes. And we are seeing some very bad behavior.
I’ve been looking at my own behavior, asking myself where it falls short. And I think I’ll start by being more generous. Sure, it’s the season of giving and all that. But I don’t mean gifts in the usual sense. I mean giving others more slack; giving the person I’m talking with my full attention; giving up the habit of forming rigid opinions about things I don’t know enough about. I’m not sure any of us feel like we have any time to spare. Crazy busy-ness seems to be a permanent feature of modern life. But maybe I can spare the time it takes to connect someone with someone else, to do a small favor, or to say thank you.
Maybe in my small way, I can make the coming year a little less worrisome and a little kinder. That’s my hope, anyway. Here’s a tiny little parting gift for auld lang sayne. Tule elk on a winter evening at Point Reyes.