Happy Better Year Next Year

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Happy Better Year Next Year

I finally figured out what 2017 reminds me of. It’s the annoying, clingy guest at the party you didn’t want to attend in the first place.

I mean, even at the worst party, there are bright spots: the shrimp platter on the sideboard, the wine refill you didn’t have to ask for, the chance to show off your new dangly earrings. I went to Australia for the first time, I found an awesome suede trucker jacket on deep discount at Levis.com, and my youngest daughter developed a recipe for tofu that we all enjoyed. The party, I mean 2017, hasn’t been a total loss.

But every time it started to seem like this was going to be an okay party/year after all, that annoying guest would lurch into sight and say something like, “Did I tell you about how much money I made at my app development start-up this year?” or “I just ate 100% of the shrimp!” or “Your earrings are cute but have you heard what the Mexican said to the Chinaman?” and the bubble was burst.

Dreamers deferment. Removal of EPA protections and the words “vulnerable” and “science-based” from the official lexicon. Another death of a black person at the hands of a cop. There are no Lyfts available to whisk us away from this mess, and even if there were it’s all surge pricing, all the time.

You don’t leave a party like this and think, “Was THAT ever fun!” The best you can probably muster is, “It’s over, and I survived.”

But that’s not nothing.

We survived. And we’re a little wiser for it. We maybe learned a trick or two about avoiding a repeat. At the party, maybe it was dodging and deflection – “Hey, I think they’re bringing out more shrimp, you should totally go look!”

As for 2017, maybe it was call your senator and donate to down-ballot progressive candidates. Maybe those were things we didn’t think much about when the party was good/the world was not a dumpster fire, but we get it now. We see why it’s useful, we’ve gotten a little practice, and we won’t hesitate to deploy those skills in 2018.

I’m not ready to bust out the dangly earrings quite yet, but as we shut the door on this 365-day monstrosity, I raise a glass of bubbly to you, my fellow survivors. I’m hopeful that 2018 will be a slightly better party. If we get out the vote properly next November, it may actually be a “Was THAT ever fun!” party.

And that’s not nothing.

Xxoxoox Nan