New Year

Every year, when the old year ran towards its end and the new year reared its head above the cradle frame, Mims, mine and Lulu's mother, would set to work that nothing old would be carried across the threshold on New Year's night. She would make sure that every room was spick and span , nothing laying about waiting to be put away, all laundry done, pressed and folded, no dirty dishes and the pantry full to look the new year squarely and unblinkingly in the face. She made sure that all pending correspondence was taken care of and that all bills were paid, even anticipated ones, like the milk man, who would leave his weekly ticket with his delivery on Friday early morning, even if Friday was New Year's Day. In the evening befor the very formal dinner, she would strip us, her children, and give us a serious scrubbing in the tub; before that she would have made sure that our fingernails had been clipped according to rules and while we were soaking in the hot water she'd wash our last set of clothes and laid out fresh ones to wear that evening. Even the towels we used after the bath were washed. That was before the days of automatic washing machines and dryers so, although clean, these last pieces of clothing were allowed to be left hanging on the line to dry in fresh air.

Such traditions carry over. Lulu had it in her blood and I would approve of and support any move in that same direction in my family. Being a male chauvinist, sometimes my contributions to the end result were not very effective. 

Now I am living alone and have little traffic in my far off location and as it is, with age one becomes not lazy as much as increasingly unable to keep up with everything. It must be unsiversal that one in such a situation begins to make short cuts and avoids extra motion and effort. Is from this that th expression 'dirty old man' originated? Thus, it came to pass that this present year was running towards its end and I began to contemplate defection. What's so big about doing more for December 31st and January 1st that I do not do for the other 363 days? Have I ever been punished for leaving the dishes of my dinner table in the sink - other than having to touch them again for cleaning the next morning? The plan continued to grow, or the will to subject myself to old practices began to crumble until at last there was the unspoken but firm intention to completely ignore the and of the old and the birth of the new year.

That's when my Mims' soul reached out and took control. Four or five days ago, just after the Christmas celebrations with Kaarin and Karl and Steve and also Riina and  Kristjan I was struck by a mild bug. It was mild, I say, because when you are living dependent only upon yourself, you may not get sick. Vital things come to a standstill if you do. So I continued with my ordinary routines and assumed now that I was feeling poorly I had the perfect alibi to not do what Mims had taught me to do was right and moral and pleasing in the eyes of the Lord. I took my vitamin C and my zinc and drank my teas and took my reconstituting naps and then - 

This morning I woke up,at four and was swimming in sweat. My fever had broken and I felt like reborn but was not comfortable because of the soaked pajamas and the wet sheets and because the thermostat at this hour has not yet told the furnace to go to work and heat the place to comfort level.

There was another unbroken tradition wherever I went in my life: night sweat results in a shower or a bath, fresh bedding and fresh clothes. I could have coped with all of this but suddenly I realized that this was Mims' gentle way of admonishing her children when they got off the proper path and the realization set me straight.

Before breakfast, the bedding was in the washing machine, and I stood in the shower. Then the kitchen sink was cleared out and a breakfast served. After breakfast the first load was finished and loaded in the dryer, the washing machine was working on the second load with my laundry and the shower towels, I put my boots on and dropped my check at the electric company (that bill had arrived just yeaterday and was not due till idle of the next month) I went to town and got more laundry soap and at the grocery store. Stopped for some eggs and sausages for the festive breakfast tomorrow and I needed not more because my larder is stuffed in anticipation of a real snow storm which might tie me down for days. 

I came home and the failures began to heap up on me: that snow and ice storm we had a few days ago formed the foundation for a permanent ice cap on Town Hill. Snow had dropped off the roof over the garage doors and began to pile up to prevent coming out and going in with the car and made it extremely uncomfortable to climb over even to just go to the mail box. But the stuff took no picking. After I had moved four shovels of packed ice I was finished.

Upstairs, I found the Blue Jays raiding the feeder and I refilled it. When I hung I back up, one of the lines broke and the bird food dropped to the ground and in the snow. I fixed that and tried to shovel some of the snow off the deck but my stamina gave up and I dropped on the couch to rest.

Partial salvation came through Jason who arrived with his front loader and 'dug me out' at the garage and the front door, even though his machine had to take just one or two bites do that. Blessed be Mr. Diesel whose invention powered that Ford tractor and all the Hydraulics.

Now I am ready to meet the New Year face to face without a blink.

And blessed be Mims who made it all come to pass.

Happy New Year, all!