Old Year

Last night Rosamond and I rang out the old year. Why not? It was a good year deserving of a retrospective. Besides, we have a fair idea of what last year was about, while next year is only a cliff, good if you are a base jumper but otherwise perhaps not.

Almost a year ago, we spent two weeks in St. Croix, walking the usually deserted beach, snorkeling, writing, playing games, a kind of annual honeymoon we enjoy away from New York’s winter cold. In February, I went to Montana to see Lorca and Vedra and their families and to ski. I can no longer ski from the lift’s opening until it’s close, but I am not one who sashays down the groomers either. Going fast is still irresistible, although I suspect that my grandkids will soon leave me behind. Continue reading