Good riddance, 2012: An open letter to one of the worst years yet

Dear 2012,

I had high hopes for you. After the economic mess 2007 and 2008 left us in, I had heard you were the one that would finally set things right, bring us back to the normal we had grown to know and love—even though we knew not then how much we did indeed love that normal.

Instead, you brought us still not enough jobs, still lower home values, followed by drained retirement accounts and higher credit card debt as we scrambled and sputtered, using the very last of our coffers in hopes of riding out the seemingly endless storm.

All the while, our leaders and leader wannabes spewed blame and hate and divisive dithering. We struggled. They stewed. Nothing changed—except that Eddie Vedder's lyrics of "there ain't gonna be any middle any more" gained further relevance.

Political posturing and financial calamity far and wide were merely two of the travesties of your term. For you hooked up with Mother Nature and the fallout of that toxic relationship reigned upon the innocents. Floods, hurricanes, snowstorms, wildfires, crazy extreme events and temps like Ms. Nature has never before cast upon us.
 
Natural tragedies were not the only shock from you, 2012, the only irreparable damage to innocents—and innocence—across our land. No, unnatural, unimaginable tragedies of a human sort rocked us worse than any hurricane you treated us to. Wars in faraway places hurt our hearts as we watched footage, read reports, yet it was the unexpected gunfire in our own states, cities, neighborhoods that shook our souls, shattered our hearts. And here we are, still trying to pick up the pieces, still trying to make sense where there is none. Here we are, hoping to figure out a new normal that will limit—for we know we can, unfortunately, never fully stop—the collateral damage and fallout of the wars that rage in many a young man's heart.

You gave us pain and sorrow and heaps of horror even Nostradamus failed to predict. It does seem, though, that you believed predictions reportedly from another source, from the Mayans. Erroneous as those predictions of our end, of you being the last to rule the calendar turned out to be, like a bad screenwriter, you threw in every last shocker you could imagine, made our world seem stranger than fiction simply to get our attention.

Shame on you for such sloppy work, 2012. Yet I must admit that you did get our attention. And at least we learned much from your shark jumping.

At least we learned we can survive, sometimes even thrive, by spending less, accumulating less, depending on our creativity and one another more.

At least we learned negativity and hatefulness—and billions of dollars wasted on campaign ads folks muted or changed or completely ignored despite hearing—should go down in history, to (hopefully) never return.

At least we learned to share our hearts, hugs, material matters with those who have lost all in natural disasters. And to share our hearts, hugs, tears with those for whom material matters matter not one whit when it's loved ones lost, tragically taken.

And at least we've learned the importance, the necessity of discussing the matters affecting, encouraging, exacerbating, and ultimately allowing such tragedies.

I'm not satisfied with at leasts, though. I, along with everyone else subject to your rule, deserve much more than consolation. We deserve consideration, opportunity, positivity. And no more tears. We deserve hope for a brighter tomorrow as we give thanks for a peaceful and productive yesterday, a safe and secure today.

In light of that, I'm more than ready for you to pack your bags and get on your way, 2012. Don't let the door—or the disappointment in you—hit you on the way out, prevent you from an expedient exit. I need you gone for good so I can move on. My hopes and the hopes of many are now pinned on 2013.

So go on, 2012, skedaddle. And please don't even consider sharing knucks or high fives or any other sort of celebratory connecting to 2013 as you pass the bright and shiny New Year on your way out. I'd prefer you not taint with your toxic touch the promise of good things to come.

Farewell, 2012. Thank you in advance for graciously making way for 2013—my new favorite year.

Cheers...and good riddance!

graphic: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What do you hope to see in 2013 that didn't happen in 2012?

Sense, bright sides, and days when neither exist

The ever-so-courageous lion.Two things you may or may not know about me:

1. I like things to makes sense.

2. I like to look on the bright side.

Yesterday I struggled with news that made no sense, provided no bright side.

And I don't like that.

The past few months, my state has seen too many events that make the news, things that make no sense and have no bright side. The Waldo Canyon fire. The Aurora shootings. The heartbreaking story of Jessica Ridgeway.

We humans are born with a courageous spirit, one we're meant to put to good use throughout our lives to accomplish things great and small. I firmly believe that—despite the personally frustrating fact I lack courage far more often than not.

Those unfortunate events of late, though, had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with, well, with things happening for no good reason, making no sense.

Like most folks, I prefer stories of courage, in the news and otherwise. Retellings of how every single day millions of people beat a fatal illness, accomplish an incredible feat, overcome harrowing challenges, come to terms with odds no one ever expected to face, make a difference in personal worlds or the world at large.

The most recent example is the oh so courageous—some might even say crazy—Felix Baumgartner, who leapt from more than 24 miles high in the sky, landing safely to become the first man to reach supersonic speed without traveling in a jet or spacecraft.

What an extraordinary thing to do, and how incredible that he survived unscathed.

But then there are people who do completely average and ordinary things and don't fare so well.

Yesterday provided glaring evidence of such contrast.

Just after reading the newspaper account of Baumgartner's courage and derring do, I heard reports of an automobile accident a few miles from my home. A horrible affair in which two women—one a mother, the other a grandmother, pushing a 14-month-old in a stroller as they walked home after dropping off a total of five kids at school—were plowed down, killed by an SUV as the driver dashed to work or someplace apparently equally important to her.

It makes no sense. One man dares to perform a death-defying act and does exactly that—defies the sensible outcome, which would be death. Yet two women who likely never even considered death a possibility of their actions, that courage would be a requirement of their walking kids and grandkids to school, will never return home or to their loved ones again.

I get that bad things happen to good people all the time. That ordinary people doing ordinary things end up victims of unfortunate, unforseeable circumstances.

All the while a man jumps from far above the earth and falls into fame, good fortune, accolades and a forever place in history.

It makes no sense—the ordinary, the extraordinary, and how things turn out.

I don't begrudge Baumgartner his accomplishment of the truly awesome, incredible feat. I'm amazed he dared to jump from such heights, am inspired by him and his courage.

I just want things to make sense. More importantly, I want there to be a bright side for the families of those ordinary women who dared to cross the street yesterday morning, ending their lives and changing forever the life of the woman driver.

The baby, reportedly pulled by a witness from the mangled stroller, is in ICU but expected to survive. I suppose that could be considered the bright side.

I find it hard to wrap my head around that being a bright side, though, when that baby and a handful of other kiddos are left without a mother, a grandmother.

Perhaps it's at such times that our inherent courage is meant to kick into gear—to help us fearlessly accept that sometimes things simply make no sense, that sometimes there is no bright side.

Thing is, as I mentioned above, I unfortunately lack courage more often than I'd like. Yesterday was one of those days. At least when it came to accepting nonsense, darkness, and the unimaginable heartbreak affecting—yet again—ordinary people doing ordinary things.

photo: stock.xchng/KevinMcG

Today's question:

Where do you find courage, for things large or small?

Good news and a happy dance

I don't know about you, but the continual bad news of this summer is taking a toll on my mind, mood, and disposition. While I'm far from wanting to play Pollyanna, I have been craving some news that warms my heart rather than hurts it.

With that in mind, here are six happier bits of news I've been thankful for the last few days—followed by a happy dance, courtesy of Bubby:

The Olympics. When in the mood for uplifting and inspiring, nothing tops the stories of the young women and men doing what they do best and going for the gold. There's not just one good story associated with the 2012 Summer Olympics, there are hundreds, if not more. And the Opening Ceremony this evening will undoubtedly lift spirits, warm hearts—and, if you're anything like me, elicit a few tears, as well.

Miracles. There's so, so much horror and heartbreak associated with the Aurora movie-theater massacre that took place just 70 miles up the road from me; it's often just too much for me to watch, read, think about, talk about. But the incredible story of Petra Anderson, the young musician who was shot in the head but won't suffer brain damage because the bullet hit her at exactly the point of a minimal and previously undetected brain defect is absolutely worth a smile. And a fist pump. Truly miraculous.

Tickets to ride. When my grandsons left my house to return home a few weeks ago, we had no plans to visit again, which is unusual. Since Bubby's birth, there's been virtually no visit that ended without plans in the works for the next gathering—until this last time. Budgets are tight, schedules are packed, and as far as the eye could see on the calendar, even into 2013, it didn't appear I'd get any time with my boys. The other night, Jim said, "What the heck—just book it!" I now hold tickets for Jim and me to fly to see Bubby and Mac in October. THAT, to me, is great news!

Bear watching. Sure, there are lots of animal videos online to take your mind off the serious and sad stuff, but when I read of this one in the paper, it made me smile and head for the computer. Just this past week, news was that Explore.org recently started live streaming footage from the high-definition webcams they set up along Alaska's Brooks River in Katmai National Park. Now folks everywhere can watch the annual rite of hundreds of black bears feasting from the largest Sockeye salmon run in the world. It's grand diversion of a different sort, so refreshing and engaging—and thrilling when you see a catch. This good news is worth sharing with the grandkids, too, who will get a kick out of the imposing bears patiently awaiting fish to come their way. (Hint: It seems to stream better when choosing the "pop-out" option.)

More streaming video. Like the aforementioned plane tickets, this one is more of a personal bit of good news. Sort of. Though I'm willing to bet someone out there is just as happy about this good news as I am. You see, Jim and I have become addicted to the (yes, rather violent) series, Breaking Bad. We've gone through the entire first four seasons in just the last couple months. Wednesday night we stayed up late and watched the final four episodes available on Netflix, then lamented being in limbo waiting for the fifth season—which started two weeks ago—to come out on DVD or be available on Netflix. We don't have cable, thus no AMC television channel on which the series airs. Then, lo and behold, I checked AMC online yesterday and, YES! Full episodes of the current season are streamed online. Very good news indeed! At least for me and Jim—and any other non-cable subscriber who can't get enough of Walt and Jesse.

Snow. Yes, I said that word again. On the very same day that I posted about snow, it appeared—in July, mind you—on Pikes Peak! Imagine that. Per the comments on that post, it's clear many of you would not consider the arrival of snow good news. But as hot and dry (and flammable and uncomfortable) as it's been the last few months where I live, news of moisture—of snow!—on the mountain overlooking my city was very good, refreshing, and smile-worthy news to me.

And now, for the promised happy dance from Bubby:

Today's question:

What recent good news—personal or public—elicited from you a happy dance?

This post linked to the Saturday Sharefest.