Sunday Post 105: Happy New Year

We went to the NC State/Vanderbilt bowl game in Nashville for the New Year’s weekend.  Take the outcome of the game out of the picture, and it was a really nice jaunt.

I’ve never really loved New Year’s Eve.  I think in middle and high school I usually spent the night with my parents and other family friends who had kids my age.  In college we spent multiple years following the Wolfpack around to bowl games in the southeast.  Once we were in Atlanta and a girl friend and I were walking down the street.  A homeless looking guy walked up to her and shoved his tongue in her ear.  I’ll never forget the look on her face.  It was one of the highlights of my life.

Although Lisa and I enjoyed having plans on New Year’s Eve, it wasnt that important to us.  We could grab dinner somewhere at 8 and be home snuggled in bed at 10 watching Dick Clark.  Now they’re both gone.

Like Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve screams in the face of those who don’t have a mate, or at a minimum a date.  Mother’s and Father’s Day is like that for those who don’t have kids.  That’s whats supposed to happen:  at 25 you get married, at 28 you have a kid.  And then they grow up and produce your grandchildren and you live until you’re 94 and don’t know your daughter from the nurse technician who changes your diaper and gives you a bath.

But that’s often not how it works.  It’s more likely that you’ll divorce, or you kid will struggle with alcohol or drugs or that you can’t have kids of your own.  And it’s likely, at some point in your lifer, that you’ll find yourself alone – or at least at a place you never dreamed you’d be.  It’s my turn now.  I’ll take one for the team.

Don’t get me wrong, my New Year’s Eve wasn’t bad.  I was with my kids and two other great families when Ryan Secrest ushered it in.  It was when I got back home – that’s when it felt a bit hollow.  The kids went upstairs, we needed some space after a nine hour car drive.  I glanced at our drooping Christmas tree.  It looked like it felt about like I did that night – tired and a bit lifeless.

Leave a comment


  1. Cris

     /  January 6, 2013

    I don’t know what it’s like to lose a mate. I do know about feeling hollow after holidays. I get that same feeling each time I have to drop my son off at his dad’s and drive back home to Boston (see for the in-depth explanation to that one). It has never gone away – I don’t think it ever will – but it has gotten easier to live around as the years have passed.

    I hope that eventually proves true for you as well.


  2. Aunt Susan

     /  January 7, 2013

    Face it Danny your getting old! so next year skip the bowl game, let the girls have one friend each over for a “sleep” over and stay home. I remember doing that once and that was a really long, long, long time ago! You can always go to first night!

  3. I haven’t lost my mate, but I can relate. The holidays were very empty for me (besides having the kids around) with him being deployed. It is just not the same if you don’t have that special someone. Kissing a picture at midnight is definitely not the same as kissing him.

    Chin up, buttercup. You are not the only one. Thoughts with you!


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