The annual Scottish revelry for New Year’s Eve – Hogmanay - has passed for another year. The night of conviviality with neighbours, strangers, friends and family, of ‘First Footing’ and Auld Lang Syne, fireworks and fire balls and whisky galore.
The wind is fierce this morning but the sun is bright and full of cold promise. It’s a day of beginning to take down the tinsel and cards, the tree and decorations – though I intend to leave the bulk of it until tomorrow. Don is walking Dusty as my foot is no better yet, so it’s getting a day off.
And today would have been my dear Dad’s 89th birthday. There was a piece on the radio this morning by a guy who started working at age 10 or so delivering newspapers. That was an appropriate piece on Dad’s birthday, as many a time I heard stories of the exploits of Dad and Uncle Gordie delivering papers from the age of about 8, biking up and down the hills of Lomita, 15 miles for each route, and having to get up at 4 am to fold the papers first.
It was a different era. People worked very hard, but there was also that freedom from the anxiety of violence against children, so that children could run free in cities as well as rural locations.
So into a new year. Full of promise and plans. Full of the unknown delights. Full of hope and faith in the God who never leaves us alone, no matter what the year has to offer.
Thankfully.
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