Twenty-twenty-one. Unlike the year that shall not be named, it's not a pretty number. In fact, I think it’s a tad ugly, and as ugly numbers go, it could have at least been a prime number, but no, it’s not. It has prime factors of 43 and 47 (not-so-pretty numbers themselves). For those of us who learned our multiplication table up to 50, we already knew that 2021 = 43 x 47.
I know what you are thinking, “Surely, Tom, you jest.”
Well, yes. Yes, I do.
I can count on one hand the number of New Year’s Eve parties I’ve been to. Only one of those parties was something I have a fond memory of… 1974 heading into 1975 at my best friend Paul’s house—a night I have always considered my third favorite New Year’s Eve. I was 18 years old and had braces put on my teeth just a few days before. My mouth hurt… and I mean really hurt. I’m not a drinker, but Paul’s dad gave me a rum and coke, telling me to sip on it throughout the night. I did as he said, and sure enough, I felt better. I also remember picking up my guitar and performing the song Dead Skunk (by Loudon Wainwright, III). Whether or not this rare performance of mine was related to the rum and coke remains open for debate.
As New Year’s Eve goes, two others remain in my memory... and always will.
December 31, 1975… Laura and I were just beginning. I came over to her house, and we two sat on her parent’s couch, talking and watching the New Year’s Eve festivities on TV; Dick Clark, no doubt, although my memory of this is faded. It was our first ever New Year’s Eve together. I brought a gift for Laura, a drawing and watercolor that I drew and painted of the cartoon character Ziggy. It has hung on the wall of every place we have ever lived… it hangs on the wall of our guestroom as I write this. The night ended abruptly, though, in true father versus boyfriend fashion. Laura’s dad intervened on the festive atmosphere at just 30 minutes to midnight, saying it was much too late for me to be there and I had to leave. Even though Laura and I did not quite make it to the New Year together, I consider that New Year’s Eve my second favorite New Year’s Eve ever.And my favorite? Fast forward two years to December 31, 1977. It was a Saturday, and Laura and I were one week away from our wedding… and things were hectic, to say the least. Laura was working hard that night, handmaking three bridesmaid gowns, one maid of honor gown, and two flower girl gowns. She was at my parent’s house, sewing franticly, as 1978 approached. She was also frazzled, and I felt terrible for her. For me, the ushers, and my best man, it was simple… rental tuxes to be picked up the day before the wedding.
I asked her to stop and let it go for the evening, and she did.
We spent New Year’s Eve and the arrival of 1978 at the movies… Close Encounters of the Third Kind. We kicked back in an almost empty theater near Pembroke Mall, ate popcorn, drank soda, nibbled on candy, snuggled a little, and relaxed… on our final date as Tom Smith and Laura Foote.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Day 2021. Laura has been away since the Monday before Thanksgiving, tending to family matters in Texas that could not wait. She flies home tomorrow. While that does not change my New Year’s Eve rankings, tomorrow will be, without a doubt, my favorite New Year’s Day.
