New Year's Resolutions

Or Revolutions

Big Talbot Island. December 2024

Two Thousand Twenty Five. I enter my seventy-second trip around the sun looking out through a heavy fog. The atmosphere is clear, the fog is in my brain. It’s not medical. Neither virus nor bacteria can be blamed. It’s more of a What-in-the-world scenario. How did we get here?

A crazy flashback took me to a time in the late sixties. Mrs. Robinson. Simon and Garfunkle. One word. PLASTICS.

There must be a reason this cultural mash-up invades my New Year’s morning brain. I cued up the soundtrack from The Graduate and watched as the last fifty-something years fluttered by.

Plastics. I cracked open my Webster’s. Of course there were references to poly-this-and-that. Lots to say about carbon bonds. Then I looked for the origins of the word. Plastic: from the Greek root PLASTIKOS. which means capable of being molded.

So as I begin 2025 I ask myself a question. Am I plastic? Am I capable of being molded? At some level the answer seems obvious. Of course not. I’m set in my ways. My world-view is constructed of countless hours of study, reading and thought. I’ll never change. There’s no need. Maybe as I look at my New Year’s list of resolutions I should add being plastic.

I made a quick search and found the lyrics from Mrs. Robinson. The words composed more than fifty years ago seem certainly appropriate but practically prophetic.

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Whoa, whoa, whoa
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files
We'd like to help you learn to help yourself
Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes
Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Whoa, whoa, whoa
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes
It's a little secret, just the Robinson's affair
Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids

Coo, coo, ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson
Jesus loves you more than you will know
Whoa, whoa, whoa
God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson
Heaven holds a place for those who pray
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Every way you look at this, you lose

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you
Woo, woo, woo
What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson?
Joltin' Joe has left and gone away
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey

Gold Bug. digital image. 2024

It’s a new year. I look at my list of resolutions. So many lines were slid down from years past.

Lose thirty (forty) pounds.

Walk five miles a day.

No alcohol.

No sugar.

Write every day.

Paint every day.

Get into the woods and on the water at least once a week.

I’m not so sure where all this is going. But I know for a few weeks I’ll be a better person. Coo, coo, ca-choo. Heaven holds a place for those who pray. Hey, hey, hey.

Maybe instead of making resolutions we should make a revolution. Looking at the failed resolutions from New Years past I find some constants. I’ve never really kept a resolution. The problem is that I have not made significant changes in myself.

Sarah P. Duke Gardens Campus of Duke University. Durham, North Carolina

I am fortunate to be able to visit the gardens on Duke Campus very often. To say that the gardens are inspiring is an understatement. They are a testament to the concept of doing things right. Whenever I go regardless of the season I witness nothing short of perfection.

Duke Gardens. Stonework

White Garden. Duke Gardens

Today, January 1, 2025 we woke up to the news of a tragic attack in New Orleans. I hesitate to use the word EVIL. That seems way too easy. Using that word forms a separation between us and one of our species who could perform such a horrific act.

Maybe our resolution, is to create a revolution within ourselves. Can we make ourselves plastic? Can we allow ourselves to be molded? History proves that our species is certainly plastic. We seem to bend willy-nilly to any sculptor who comes along. We shake our fists at the heavens and ask WHY. Then we raise our flag, wave it in the breeze and yell FIGHT. Our enemies give us strength and focus. They become the reason for our existence.

The garden is an often used image in mythology. We need look no further than the Judeo-Christian tradition of Eden to understand that there is a time of perfection in the garden. Separation from the garden becomes a Hell defined by our culture.

For my New Year’s Resolution I offer myself a revolution. A turn. A twist. A return to the garden. To a season of growth and blossom then a season of quiet rest beneath fallen leaves.