new calendar

January 1, 2024 — Pat Bertram

When I broke my three-year streak of blogging every day, I knew days would go by without my coming here to give you an update on my life, but I never expected that months would go by. I thought I would do a quick something for Halloween. Then when that day passed, I certainly thought I would participate in Blog4Peace as I have done for the past decade, but that day, too passed unacknowledged. Then Thanksgiving . . . I have so much to be thankful for, such as relative good health (relative to my age, that is), relative happiness (relative to those days when I never thought I could feel any sort of lightheartedness again), and relative wealth (relative to those days when I feared I would end up on the street). Most of all, I’m grateful for my lovely little house and sometimes lovely yard — my home. But Thanksgiving passed without any acknowledgement from me. Just because I passed on writing about my gratefulness, however, it doesn’t mean that I passed on feeling it, though to be honest, I don’t need a special day to be thankful — I am thankful every single day for the blessings life has bestowed on me.

Then of course, there was Christmas. That should have been an easy day to blog since I always post the same thing on Christmas, a graphic wishing you all the great things the season has to offer as well as a list of how to say “Merry Christmas” in dozens of different languages, but no. Didn’t happen. I don’t even have the excuse of being too busy because I spent the day alone, though my dear neighbor brought me Christmas lunch.

Well, here we are on a new holiday — the first of the new year. I just finished going through last year’s calendar to transfer recurring events to the new calendar, and discovered that except for a few birthdays I want to remember, there are no recurring events. Apparently, I am starting this year from scratch. Not as much scratch as I did after Jeff died, of course, because now I have a home, friends, and a goal (to create a lovely mini park in my yard).

I’ve been phased out of my job helping care for an older woman. She’s okay, just doesn’t need me right now. And I’ve phased myself out of the last group I belonged to. At the beginning, I enjoyed the meetings and the events we hosted because we were a small congenial group of friends, but the group has grown and there are . . . undercurrents . . . for lack of a better word. I haven’t enjoyed the group for a long time, but I stayed because I worried that with nothing social to do, I’d become a total hermit. Come spring, of course, when I’m outside, being social is not a problem. I have neighbors to visit with over the fence and across the street, and I’ve even made friends with a couple of passers-by. But winter? When I’m inside so much? Luckily, it hasn’t been a problem so far. I manage to get together with friends occasionally, and when my knees cooperate, I even go out walking a bit.

All this to say that so far, my calendar is empty. Not that I (or you!) need to worry — this is first day of that calendar. There might not be recurring events for now, but that leaves a lot of room for more spontaneous get-togethers.

Sometimes I wonder what I’m going to do with all my free time, but mostly I let the days fill themselves. Books, movies, games, texts, calls, an occasional invitation, perhaps even blogging if I get back in the habit. It sounds trivial, doesn’t it? I never wanted to steep myself in inconsequential matters; I always strived for a meaningful life. For now, though, having life is meaning enough.

Wishing you a happy new year and a calendar filled with hope, love, health, and all the good things life has to offer.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in home, house, life. Tags: becoming a hermit, being thankful, free time, new calendar, new year, sporadic blogging. 5 Comments »

Celebrating My New Year

January 5, 2021 — Pat Bertram

We are five days into the new year, and it feels a lot like the old year. Nothing has changed except the calendar. There is a lot to be said for a nice, clean, new calendar — it speaks of hope that only good things will fill all those coming days. But as for a new year itself, it seems so arbitrary. It’s not even a universal new beginning. The Chinese New Year this year is February 12, the Jewish New Year is September 6, the Persian New Year is March 21, the Korean New Year is January 12, the Tibetan New Year begins on February 12, and various communities in the Hindu religion have different dates for their celebration.

January 1 is not even the beginning of a new season or of a solar cycle such as a solstice or an equinox. Nor is there any personal demarcation — no black line separates the old from the new. The world is no different today from yesterday, nor are we. We carry the old year with us because we have the same problems, sadnesses, hopes, fears. We don’t simply leave all that behind, along with our old selves, at the chime of the clock on midnight, December 31. We drag the past into the future.

The sun doesn’t count the years. It doesn’t even count the days; from its point of view, there is no sunrise and sunset. It’s always there, always risen.

And so, in a way, if we ignore the calendar aspect of the new year as well as the number we have assigned to it, every day begins a new year. For example, the year beginning today will end on January 5, 2022 rather than on the first. This way of looking at years makes as much sense as the other. Come to think of it, our personal new years begin on our birthday, and that makes even more sense than calendar years. We have an established beginning for our first year We even have an established hour for the beginning of that year.

In my case, at 7:27am one day in the months to come, my personal new year will begin. Of course, the effects will be the same as our western calendar year — there will be no dumping of the previous year’s baggage at 7:26, to begin anew at 7:27. One year flows into the other, with only an occasional event that truly does create us anew at a moment’s notice, such as falling in love, the birth of a child, the death of a spouse. In each of these cases, we are instantly different.

I suppose it’s just as well we drag our baggage along with us from year to year. To leave it behind would also mean leaving the memories behind. I certainly wouldn’t want to wake up every January 1 completely washed clean of the past!

As for the problems we carry with us, ours and the world’s, the only way to stop carrying them is to solve them or to make friends with them.

Unlike most people, last year was not at all a bad year for me. I might not thrive on being a total hermit since I do need some contact with people (which I have been getting), but normally, I don’t go out to eat, don’t do social gatherings, tend to stay away from sick people no matter what their illness might be.

So, come to think of it, this new year being like the old one is rather nice, so whether it started on the first, or starts today, it’s worth celebrating.

***

“I am Bob, the Right Hand of God. As part of the galactic renewal program, God has accepted an offer from a development company on the planet Xerxes to turn Earth into a theme park. Not even God can stop progress, but to tell the truth, He’s glad of the change. He’s never been satisfied with Earth. For one thing, there are too many humans on it. He’s decided to eliminate anyone who isn’t nice, and because He’s God, He knows who you are; you can’t talk your way out of it as you humans normally do.”

Click here to buy Bob, The Right Hand of God.

Posted in life. Tags: Chinese New Year, dragging our baggage with us, dragging the past into the future, hope for the new year, Jewish New Year, new calendar, new year. 3 Comments »

Celebrating the Newness

January 1, 2020 — Pat Bertram

I’ve never really celebrated the New Year because it doesn’t mean much to me. It’s a relatively arbitrary date. The calendar numbers change, but that’s all. It’s not a universal new beginning. The Chinese New Year this year is on January 25, the Jewish New Year is on September 18, the Persian New Year is March 19, the Korean New Year is January 25, the Tibetan New Year begins on February 24, and various communities in the Hindu religion have different dates for their celebration.

There is a newness to January 1, though, and that is the newness of a new calendar.

Like school kids with stiff new clothes and a satchel full of crayons, unread books, and blank paper, we are ready to set out on an adventure, trembling with both trepidation and excitement. Our new calendars have 365 blank squares. How will we use those squares? With notations of appointments and special days, of course. Perhaps with reminders of bills to pay and chores to do. But many of those days will be blank. What we will do with those blank days? Will we search for happiness or a new love? Will we recommit to an old love? Will we strive to attain a better level of health? Will we experience new things, meet new people, visit new places, sample new foods?

I do feel that particular newness today, that hope. I’ve had marvelous adventures the past past year — buying a house, settling into a new home and community, making new friends. And now I have 365 blank days on my new calendar. I plan on getting out my box of crayons and coloring those days brightly with the glow of a smile, laughter shared, and moments of appreciation for the world around me.

I hope your days will be filled with color, new adventures, and much joy.

Happy New Year.

***

Posted in culture, life. Tags: 365 new days, Chinese New Year, coloring our days, hope for the new year, Jewish New Year, new calendar, new year. 4 Comments »

The Extraordinariness of Ordinary Things

December 31, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been invited to a New Year’s Eve party — nothing fancy, just pizza, salad, boxed wine, and sparkling cider. I’m looking forward to it with all the expectation as if it were a fancy dress ball because this will be my very first New Year’s Eve party. Even as I write these words, it doesn’t seem possible, but it’s true. In my entire life, I have never been to a New Year’s Eve party.

New Year’s doesn’t meant that much to me. It’s a relatively arbitrary date, and mostly signifies nothing but a new calendar, which, I suppose, is something to celebrate. My new calendar has 365 blank squares, and there is the question of how I will use those squares. With notations of appointments and special days, of course. Perhaps with reminders of bills to pay and chores to do. But many of those squares will be blank. What will I do with those blank days? I can’t even begin to guess.

I know I will be leaving my father’s house, which has been both a place of refuge in my grief and a place of horror because of my schizophrenic brother and dying father. Although I have been thinking of this leaving for several years now, I still haven’t a clue what to do with my freedom. How does one choose where to go or what to do when there is no particular reason to be anywhere, no particular reason to do anything? (Well, there are dance classes here, and good friends, so those are important considerations, but I do not want to settle down, not here, not anywhere.)

But all that is yet to come. This is the last day of the old calendar, and for the first time ever I have the square filled in. New Year’s Eve party. 6:00pm.

Not only have I never gone to a New Year’s Eve party, I’ve seldom even stayed up to midnight to usher in the New Year, though for the past few years, ever since the death of my life mate/soul mate, I’ve made a point of toasting the brand new year with a crystal goblet of sparkling cider as a symbol of my commitment to living a full life.

Despite all my devastating losses, I am living fully. Well, partying fully, anyway. I’ve never gone to so many parties in such as short time as I did these past few weeks. Thanksgiving dinner, birthday party, pizza/taco party, Christmas party, Christmas Eve party, Christmas dinner, luncheon, three tea parties (those three I hosted).

And now a New Year’s Eve party.

It’s ironic when I think of it. I’ve spent the past couple of years dreaming of exotic and impossible adventures (impossible because they are beyond my physical capacities) in the hopes of finding transcendence or at least a new way of looking at life. Maybe, for me, transcendence will be found in the ordinary. My life has been counter to most people’s lives. I’ve lived a life of the heart and mind — loving profoundly, grieving deeply, reading profusely, thinking enormously — that the ordinary everyone else takes for granted is, for me . . . truly extraordinary.

Wishing you an extraordinary New Year’s Eve.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.