{"id":22916,"date":"2026-01-07T01:49:13","date_gmt":"2026-01-07T08:49:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=22916"},"modified":"2026-01-06T16:50:30","modified_gmt":"2026-01-06T23:50:30","slug":"old-new-years","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2026\/01\/07\/old-new-years\/","title":{"rendered":"OLD NEW YEARS"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>BY JOELLEN COLLINS<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cBah humbug\u201d is a phrase satirically used for Christmas holiday obsessions, even when we allow ourselves the sweet emotions of seeing family and friends. We may spend more money, more energy, and more hours trying to make this time as happy as possible.<br \/>\nHowever, as I write this on New Year\u2019s Eve for this January 7 publication date, I am aware that I have almost always applied \u201cBah humbug\u201d to New Year\u2019s Eve. It\u2019s not that I don\u2019t honor thinking about the past year, the new challenges ahead, and the people and events which we have just experienced. Sometimes of course, celebrations around the new year provide occasions where we feel loved and optimistic about the days to come. I don\u2019t mind reassessing. However, a truism of living fully is that many of us may have experienced a sad past year, perhaps with some failure in our lives or mourning the grief or passing of ones we love &#8211; those sad events that naturally come to those of us who reach maturity. So it\u2019s good to understand that year. However, I no longer enjoy the intense gaiety of celebrating the potential months ahead of us in parties that often have lots of liquor, fancy dressing, and coveted locations. I now distrust the formal requirement of intense romantic displays on this day, increased by over drinking, the braggadocio of the past year\u2019s achievements, and a kind of dramatic fog where smiles seem pasted on faces.<br \/>\nEven with that skepticism, I will say that this year has been filled for me with both great happiness and great sadness, and I need to take a few minutes sometime after writing this column or maybe because of writing this column to review how those events have fit into my long term evaluation of my contributions as a woman raised mainly in the 20th century.<br \/>\nLately I have been working on not apologizing for my existence: good friends have found it quite irritating and perhaps phony, but it was a factor for most of my life when it came to taking the time of others and their precious minutes in life to impose on them myself: my thoughts, my sadness, or even silliness. Now I still share some perhaps unrequested words to family, friends, or others close to me because of necessity. I want or need to share my honest gratitude for the place that these people have played in my life, and so now I would rather spend my time not worrying unduly or bewailing the possible disastrous futures in this chaotic and negative world. I hope tonight to sit down quietly, maybe with my pet on my lap, or with wonderful, interesting, and vital new friends and acquaintances where I live. Perhaps we can reflect on our blessings.<br \/>\nI choose now to quote a line from a poem sent to me (author unknown) which summarizes what I hope I will get out of probably not toasting champagne at midnight but from smiling at this thought: I can \u201cbask with readiness for life.\u201d Cheers to that!<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>BY JOELLEN COLLINS \u201cBah humbug\u201d is a phrase satirically used for Christmas holiday obsessions, even when we allow ourselves the sweet emotions of seeing family and friends. We may spend more money, more energy, and more hours trying to make this time as happy as possible. However, as I write this on New Year\u2019s Eve [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":479,"featured_media":16629,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-22916","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-commentary","category-on-lifes-terms"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22916","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/479"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22916"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22916\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22917,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22916\/revisions\/22917"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16629"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22916"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22916"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22916"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}