Reflecting this morning on years turning, two incongruous memories come to mind. The first is the time I took my friend out for a birthday dinner on the last night of his twenties, a diversion, while guests assembled for a party at his house (I'd call it an early night, drive him back home... lights on: "SURPRISE!"). But my friend insisted we 'walk off our dinner' and get one more drink at a bar a half hour away, unaware that guests had been waiting over an hour for our arrival. I was stumped and went along with the request, in my head the whole walk to the bar (how the hell will this end?). At some point, mid drink, mid story, I excused myself to the bathroom to call his girlfriend (again) to waive the white flag - when something else happened. A more decisive and imaginative friend intervened while I was whispering in bathroom stalls. Unbeknownst to me, his crew of buddies stormed into the bar (in skeleton masks!) and staged an abduction, literally dragging the birthday boy from the bar, throwing him into a van and peeling off. I emerged from the restroom to a collection of confused and terrified faces. They took your friend!, one hollered. I was as confounded and alarmed as they were, until one of the skeletons returned for me. "It's me, Brendan", the skeleton said, smiling.

The other memory happened nearly 20 years ago. The last night of the century, the turn of the millennium with all the Y2K insanity of the time. For reasons I can't explain beyond trying to please people, I agreed to accompany my girlfriend's family and her cousins visiting from Colombia - to Las Vegas. The trip was a series of expected fiascos and miscommunications. The main event involved us joining half a million strangers out on 'The Strip' for a midnight celebration that was never promoted nor promised. While individual casinos had their own small fireworks and some razzledazzle inside and on courtyards here and there - their was no coordinated effort for the throngs along the thoroughfare - nothing remotely resembling a big ball drop. After the initial exclamations and kisses, things fell apart quickly. A man fell from a light post above. Fights broke out. A report of a knife. Crowds ran and darted in every direction. We had no plan. I grabbed my girlfriend's little sister and put her on my shoulders. I remember the sea and the panic. I ran too, following the only silhouette I could recognize - her cousin, Fabian (aka Gordo), and his big head they all incessantly teased him about. By some mystical magnetism I still can't comprehend, we all reconnected outside a CVS, two blocks away.

Like most people, I have no big plans tonight, just waiting here, for one year to become another. But I'll be missing you all and raising a glass. To health and life. And I'll be thinking of old friends, and of family. Of high jinks and happenstance. Of Fabian's big head. Of the feeling of great relief when things fall into place. Of how warm and wonderful it will be when we all can reconnect and be together again. Of the promise and potential of a new year. Until then, let's keep our heads up and our eyes open. Hold loved ones close. Follow something or someone good. Never let them out of sight.

Happy New Year, friends.

Cheers,
Daniel

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