2014

As the years speed on, it's always a sobering time, these last weeks of a year, to reflect. For many, it must have been another good year by the number of people who let Facebook make their movie titled, It was a good year. I haven't watched the first one and I won't. I never cared for those I call the rubber inners, those who, in their good status in life, usually measured in material wealth, have the penchant for announcing to all, via photo mainly, the good fortunes.

Houses, boats, cars, grandkids, wives, all smiling and pretty.

In another place I called it the form letter Christmas card we would receive, telling in long hand how junior is making all A's, middle is working on the Phd, senior just got promoted to President and the house down by the lake will be finished soon.

And we, in our Clarks cousin manner from Lampoon Vacation, look down at our two left white shoes and wonder just where we went wrong? We could never construct such an idyllic letter, what with the no job going on two years, the first estranged in Japan, the second holed in the room on video games, the wife working her brains out of town all week.

And so the rubber inners continue. 

Already the plans in the works for a New Years bash. I will not be invited. I do not fit the celebratory mold. 

In our usual routine, we shall sit dumbfounded til the twelfth hour, amazing at the masses in Times Square so joyful and hit the hay without even an old ang sine. Tomorrow is another day like they all have been since 2002, or whenever it was we last sent out that form letter.