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Dear Flock,
Mariann and I were just discussing New Year’s Eve, and the need (and expectation) to celebrate it. Now, mind you, it is certainly an event I have always celebrated — and I’ve said (at least five times today) that we need to figure out what we’re going to do on December 31. #PRIVATE# Last year at this time, we were on our way back from Portland, OR — en route home to NYC. We took the long way (driving down California, trying our best to avoid wintry weather — not always succeeding), and on December 31, wound up spending a quiet but lovely evening with friends in Asheville, N.C. During previous years, we have rung in the New Year with craft projects, parties (which we left promptly at 12:02 a.m.), and Chinese food (a good way to celebrate anything — in fact, that’s how we spent Christmas yesterday). We exercise due diligence by consuming black-eyed peas on January 1 — a sign of prosperity, according to Southern U.S. tradition — and we even sometimes wax poetic about what we personally accomplished in the previous year, and what we hope to do next. Lose weight? Exercise more? Kvetch less? Meditate? Get better at Twitter? I would imagine that all of these things have wound up on our lists at some point — but the truth is, we don’t take New Year’s resolutions very seriously.
This year will be a bittersweet one for me, and — I’d imagine — for some of you who, like me, lost loved ones recently. I am still in denial and shock over the loss of my beloved grandmother just last month and I can’t help but remember that, for as long as I can remember, and no matter where in the world I was at the time, I always called Grandma at the stroke of midnight.
Despite my sadness, it’s not as though I am blind to the moments of happiness and excitement in my life. OHH is, after all, my heartbeat, and, in addition to the remarkable successes it has had this year, 2013 was, for me, full of really wonderful and beautiful things — I got married to the love of my life; I took up tap-dancing, which fulfills and moves me; and I am in the process of one of the biggest moves of my life (to Brooklyn, folks — more on that during tomorrow’s podcast).
In spite of all these accomplishments, though, the truth is that thinking about the passing of time kind of sucks. Yeah yeah, I get that it’s also glorious and natural and wonderful, but there is something about it that is inherently tragic. Just before I started writing this, I asked Mariann if she had any ideas of what I should focus today’s piece on, keeping in mind the New Year’s theme. She said, only half-jokingly, that I should ponder whether the reason people go out and get drunk on New Year’s Eve is because they’re dealing with the fact that they’re another year closer to death. I guffawed at that, but then she repeated it. “It’s a holiday that pretends to celebrate the passage of time,” she said. “Who on earth wants to celebrate the passage of time?”
Is it just me and Mariann that are this grouchy? Are we actually grinches? Is the beauty of the passage of time lost on us? Whatever happened to being “indefatigably positive?”
We took a breath. Had a sip of cocoa.
Mariann continued. “Well, there is, I suppose, something to celebrate in that each year does seem to get us closer.”
“Closer to what?”
“To changing the world for animals.”
Way to quote our foot tattoo, our tote bag, and our organization’s logo.
No, but seriously. She was speaking more quietly now. I looked up from my computer. That little line in the middle of her forehead appeared, proving that she meant business. “Things really do seem to be changing.”
I thought of our growing flock, the emails and writing ideas I can’t keep up with which are full of incredible opportunities for changemaking, the vegan restaurants that are everywhere, the animal rights themed documentaries that are changing the societal temperature when it comes to animal rights, the books, the classes, the newspaper articles, the campaigns, the activists, the conversations. Things are changing — Mariann is right.
My grandmother, who went vegetarian at 86 — three and a half years before she died of a benign brain tumor — craved change. And she saw change. Hell, she was part of change! In her lifetime, she saw the emergence of the civil rights movement, the women’s lib movement, and the gay rights movement. At the end of her life, she became a tireless ambassador for animal rights — even at the very, very end, when, in the wake of losing her own mobility, she she spoke out against animal cruelty.
Mariann, now petting our pit bull, Rose, who somehow ended up sitting directly on top of her and her computer, looked over at me and repeated, “Things are definitely changing, and that softens the blow.”
“Of what?” I asked.
“Of being another year closer to death.”
Mariann says it like it is. It’s one of my favorite parts about her, and one of the reasons why I eagerly await finding out what she will talk about on our podcast each week. There’s something about the combination of brains and snark that makes me weak in knees. But I digress.
And so I’m left in a similar pickle to where I was earlier; I have no idea what to do on New Year’s Eve. Should I go to the party I was invited to? It’s a pretty fabulous vegan potluck in Williamsburg (of course), and some of my favorite people on earth will be there. But, at the same time, I’ve been feeling more and more introverted lately, and feeling the need to hunker down. So should I lay low, turn old T-shirts into scarves, and watch old episodes of “I Love Lucy”? This will be the last New Year’s we spend in Soho. Is that meaningful somehow, or just a logistical headache that means I need to start packing? Oh shit — should I pack on New Year’s Eve?!
Mariann’s lament of being another year closer to death is not necessarily as morose as it sounds. The fact is, it’s true. And so what do we do with that? Do we get drunk and act stupid and regret it the next day? Maybe. And I’m honestly not judging that (that might, in fact, wind up being my New Year’s Eve plan). Regardless — and in the wake of losing Grandma — I think the fact that time is moving forward and certainly not backward means that no matter what we plan on doing to bring in 2014, we have to remember three things:
Photo by Jo-Anne McArthur of We Animals
Dear Flock,
Mariann and I were just discussing New Year’s Eve, and the need (and expectation) to celebrate it. Now, mind you, it is certainly an event I have always celebrated — and I’ve said (at least five times today) that we need to figure out what we’re going to do on December 31. #PRIVATE# Last year at this time, we were on our way back from Portland, OR — en route home to NYC. We took the long way (driving down California, trying our best to avoid wintry weather — not always succeeding), and on December 31, wound up spending a quiet but lovely evening with friends in Asheville, N.C. During previous years, we have rung in the New Year with craft projects, parties (which we left promptly at 12:02 a.m.), and Chinese food (a good way to celebrate anything — in fact, that’s how we spent Christmas yesterday). We exercise due diligence by consuming black-eyed peas on January 1 — a sign of prosperity, according to Southern U.S. tradition — and we even sometimes wax poetic about what we personally accomplished in the previous year, and what we hope to do next. Lose weight? Exercise more? Kvetch less? Meditate? Get better at Twitter? I would imagine that all of these things have wound up on our lists at some point — but the truth is, we don’t take New Year’s resolutions very seriously.
This year will be a bittersweet one for me, and — I’d imagine — for some of you who, like me, lost loved ones recently. I am still in denial and shock over the loss of my beloved grandmother just last month and I can’t help but remember that, for as long as I can remember, and no matter where in the world I was at the time, I always called Grandma at the stroke of midnight.
Despite my sadness, it’s not as though I am blind to the moments of happiness and excitement in my life. OHH is, after all, my heartbeat, and, in addition to the remarkable successes it has had this year, 2013 was, for me, full of really wonderful and beautiful things — I got married to the love of my life; I took up tap-dancing, which fulfills and moves me; and I am in the process of one of the biggest moves of my life (to Brooklyn, folks — more on that during tomorrow’s podcast).
In spite of all these accomplishments, though, the truth is that thinking about the passing of time kind of sucks. Yeah yeah, I get that it’s also glorious and natural and wonderful, but there is something about it that is inherently tragic. Just before I started writing this, I asked Mariann if she had any ideas of what I should focus today’s piece on, keeping in mind the New Year’s theme. She said, only half-jokingly, that I should ponder whether the reason people go out and get drunk on New Year’s Eve is because they’re dealing with the fact that they’re another year closer to death. I guffawed at that, but then she repeated it. “It’s a holiday that pretends to celebrate the passage of time,” she said. “Who on earth wants to celebrate the passage of time?”
Is it just me and Mariann that are this grouchy? Are we actually grinches? Is the beauty of the passage of time lost on us? Whatever happened to being “indefatigably positive?”
We took a breath. Had a sip of cocoa.
Mariann continued. “Well, there is, I suppose, something to celebrate in that each year does seem to get us closer.”
“Closer to what?”
“To changing the world for animals.”
Way to quote our foot tattoo, our tote bag, and our organization’s logo.
No, but seriously. She was speaking more quietly now. I looked up from my computer. That little line in the middle of her forehead appeared, proving that she meant business. “Things really do seem to be changing.”
I thought of our growing flock, the emails and writing ideas I can’t keep up with which are full of incredible opportunities for changemaking, the vegan restaurants that are everywhere, the animal rights themed documentaries that are changing the societal temperature when it comes to animal rights, the books, the classes, the newspaper articles, the campaigns, the activists, the conversations. Things are changing — Mariann is right.
My grandmother, who went vegetarian at 86 — three and a half years before she died of a benign brain tumor — craved change. And she saw change. Hell, she was part of change! In her lifetime, she saw the emergence of the civil rights movement, the women’s lib movement, and the gay rights movement. At the end of her life, she became a tireless ambassador for animal rights — even at the very, very end, when, in the wake of losing her own mobility, she she spoke out against animal cruelty.
Mariann, now petting our pit bull, Rose, who somehow ended up sitting directly on top of her and her computer, looked over at me and repeated, “Things are definitely changing, and that softens the blow.”
“Of what?” I asked.
“Of being another year closer to death.”
Mariann says it like it is. It’s one of my favorite parts about her, and one of the reasons why I eagerly await finding out what she will talk about on our podcast each week. There’s something about the combination of brains and snark that makes me weak in knees. But I digress.
And so I’m left in a similar pickle to where I was earlier; I have no idea what to do on New Year’s Eve. Should I go to the party I was invited to? It’s a pretty fabulous vegan potluck in Williamsburg (of course), and some of my favorite people on earth will be there. But, at the same time, I’ve been feeling more and more introverted lately, and feeling the need to hunker down. So should I lay low, turn old T-shirts into scarves, and watch old episodes of “I Love Lucy”? This will be the last New Year’s we spend in Soho. Is that meaningful somehow, or just a logistical headache that means I need to start packing? Oh shit — should I pack on New Year’s Eve?!
Mariann’s lament of being another year closer to death is not necessarily as morose as it sounds. The fact is, it’s true. And so what do we do with that? Do we get drunk and act stupid and regret it the next day? Maybe. And I’m honestly not judging that (that might, in fact, wind up being my New Year’s Eve plan). Regardless — and in the wake of losing Grandma — I think the fact that time is moving forward and certainly not backward means that no matter what we plan on doing to bring in 2014, we have to remember three things:
- We are getting closer to a new world for animals — which is reason to hope!
- But we need to get a whole lot closer than we are — which is reason to act!
- We are also getting closer to death, as Mariann said. So the general rule for 2014, I think, is that under no circumstances should we twiddle our thumbs.
But maybe we don’t need to worry about that this coming Tuesday night. So get drunk. Eat black-eyed peas. Make crafts. Go to a potluck. Tap-dance (I will, by the way, be doing that on December 31 — which I’m irrationally excited about). Make love. Make cupcakes. Make plans.
The point is not what happens on December 31; the point is what happens on January 1. And on January 2. And every day after that (and before that, too). Because we are closer to death, which means that our time here is limited. In my opinion, my grandmother — even though she was 89 when she died — was not ready to go. I believe she felt there was more left for her to do, to see, to experience, to make happen. Our time here is limited. We need to make it count. Along the way, we need to have as much fun as we can; to feel things passionately, vehemently, and purposefully.
And then we have to make it count, like Grandma did.
Happy New Year, chickens. May 2014 rock our world, and change it for the better.
xo jasmin
You have no idea how much I loved — LOVE! — Sherrey Glickman.