Ringing It In Alone

Imagine my surprise when my children grew up and no longer wanted to spend New Year's Eve with me.  I for one had great times with them on holidays, major and the most minor.  My daughter pulled the plug on that when she up and left for the midwest, although she does grace me with alternate Thanksgivings and Christmases.  In the latter case she always makes sure she is gone by New Year's Eve.

Can't say that I blame her.  I certainly wasn't home playing poker and watching Marx Brothers movies with my parents when I was in my twenties.  That was a custom that came into being through my husband's family.  When we visited his mother and Aunt Faye in Chicago, New Year's Eve was a dinner for the entire family, followed by hours of talking and laughing, which eventually got to a serious poker game.  Aunt Faye brought out the magnificent jar of pennies she had collected and divided them up, and we went at it.  The only family game of my childhood, which I remember fondly, was Keno with my sister and mother.  In Chicago, we played poker to the wee hours, adults and children.

Let me interrupt myself here.  The second time I visited Chicago with my not yet husband I instigated leaving after dinner to spend the night at a hotel, where we watched Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers (my first time) and drank champagne to usher in the year.  I can only say that in the end a) I believe I have gotten what I deserve and b) I wouldn't have done it any other way.

This year my son, now 22 and late to his teenage rebellion, has asserted his desire to be anywhere but here, and after a couple of painful New Year's Eves when we tried to make the most of being together, I accepted that this year he would be with his friends.  So last night I was alone.

I do alone pretty well.  Back in the day on Long Island when we had stopped traveling during the holidays, we would begin early in the afternoon watching Marx Brothers and Fred Astaire movies with an all-day poker game accompaniment.  The eventual tradition became a humungous antipasto and red wine for dinner and champagne at midnight, with a lobster dinner on New Year's Day.  So yesterday I bought myself a lobster, opened up a bottle of prosecco, and began to watch a movie.

At dinner time, the reality of the night began to assert itself.  I had never, not ever, been alone on New Year's Eve.  So as the water heated up for the lobster, I thought about my entertainment options.  I do have a fairly full DVR and enough movies on DVD -- and VHS -- that something would leap out at me and scream Happy New Year.  And it did.

I had a few weeks ago recorded a public TV tribute to doo-wop and the oldies of my pre-teen and teenage years.  And although I had totally forgotten her name, I had sung along with Kathy Young countless times when I was but a naive, dreamy-eyed kid.






Yes, that is Bowzer of Sha Na Na doing the intro.

And lordy there was Jay Black still showing off hitting and holding that high note on Cara Mia.  My husband and I had seen him do an oldies show on Long Island in the 80's and back then he looked like he'd had a long hard-drinking, high-living life, and he hasn't changed a bit.

So I'm here to say that it's okay to be alone on New Year's Eve.  And it's okay for my kids to be doing what I was doing when I was young.

And I hope that someday I'll be around when they are looking for a home base where they can bring over their kids for a hot New Year's midnight poker game.  I've started filling the penny jar.