All Our Hopes Are On 2017
2016 has been a landmark rubbish year for a lot of people. Between a tumultuous US election, deaths of too many Baby Boomer musicians and actors, layoffs, and more, most of my friends are done. 2016 started off so sparkly and full of promise, like a new toy on Christmas Day that we all had on our Wish List. Now it’s being shoved towards the proverbial door like a relative who’s lived too long in our basement.
GET OUT, 2016!
Maybe we need an exorcism, a blessing, something to get the burned and sour taste of this year out of our lives and mouths. A bonfire of sage fired by a wise shaman or a 55-gallon drum of Holy Water wielded by a priest might do the trick.
This month our intrepid Subaru Forester, which has towed our camper faithfully and taken my husband to work daily, developed three flat tires due to road hazards on Texas Roads. Three ruined tires. Two of them happened when we were on our way home from church, which would beggar the question is Satan trying to get us? I’m laughing, but halfway joking. The last blowout was in a particularly dangerous part of I-10 and the Sam Houston Beltway. By the time we were home, I was thinking about taking up thumbsucking again and finding my nearly bare teddy bear.
Carrie Fisher was the last blow, my contemporary, my hero, my role model in innumerable ways, and then her mother died. Not since John Lennon died have I seen such an outpouring of grief. It was as if 2016 had to twist the knife that much harder and deeper.
Now we’re two days away from 2017. A new leaf, a chance to feel positive, yet a lot of us are so depressed about the past few months it’s hard to rally. Our hopes are on the new year, and dammit, Jim, it better deliver. Time to dust ourselves off, help our friends up off the proverbial pavement, and ready for change.
We’re breathing, we’re moving, we have hope, dreams, and the expectation of a better life. Get ready, y’all. 2017 is almost here.