Friday, April 9, 2010

So this is the new year

I'm not enthusiastic about holidays. The notion that one can designate one day and announce that everyone must celebrate and have fun is ridiculous. Against this usual belief, for several years Adam and I had a New Year's tradition that we thought will last forever.

I met Adam in late 2001. We exchanged stories about New Year's Eves gone wrong. In 2000 I was wishing the world would end. But I was far less despondent this year. Adam told me of his plan to have a New Year's Day dinner, complete with ham and black eyed peas. He argued that it was the perfect unclaimed holiday. After all, everyone was home and hungover. They were ripe for food and good conversation. I planned to come as a sort of second date, but at the last minute fielded a desperate call from my former restaurant manager. I negotiated terms for working a shift including a free meal for two. I stopped by Adam's house to check on the progress and break the news. He was marinating ham in coke and chopping collard greens. I told him I would take him out to dinner to make it up to him.

The next year we were living together and decided to make the dinner again, complete with several vegetarian additions including risotto and collards sans ham hock. We had friends over and learned to love New Year's Day over the next few years. Upon moving to Johnson City, we tried to carry on this tradition. It was much less successful. We had a group of friends by this point, but they were all home for the holidays. Awesome, I thought, there are so many people I would like to get to know. We secured 8 guests, bought food, and started work on dinner. One by one, every guest cancelled within 2 hours of arrival time. We were left with a 12 pound ham, 10 cups of collard greens, and a complex. For the next year, we panicked every time we invited someone over for dinner. Are they going to show up? We vowed never to celebrate New Year's again. We now enjoy a quiet evening at home. It might be hard to get collard greens and black eyed peas in New Hampshire anyhow.

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