Lament for a lost year, hope for a new one

Alittle more than 10 months ago there was something vaguely amusing about the whole semi-lockdown state within which most of us lived in 2020, in sort of a “lol this will be an absurd story to tell the kids someday” way.

For not insignificant chunks of the year, my dog has been my only companion. There have been some darkly amusing bits, no doubt about that, but looking at 2021, with an end to the pandemic in sight — albeit not all that visible given vaccine timetables and not being an especially high-risk person — the whole affair is distinctly less amusing.

I started writing this as a lament for a lost year (even though there were some genuinely wonderful moments) but my wise boss suggested, instead, it look forward to 2021, a year that might not be lost. Because it's true, I think, that the absolute dreck of 2020 will maybe make us work a little harder at living — in like, the Aristotelian sense — next year.

It's hard to pin down exactly why 2020 was so rough, but to quote Homer Simpson from a context that is in no way relevant to this column but that rather explains why 2020 was such a bust, “there's just too much pressure, what with my job, the kids, traffic snarls, political strife at home and abroad.”

So where to begin?

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. Nobody ever follows 'em, you feel bad when you fail and at any rate what kind of lunatic attempts to improve themselves in the dead of winter? This is a time for terrible habits and slothful living. Wait for spring.

Happily, that coincides with when, roughly, it seems like the average Canadian might get a COVID-19 shot. So it's as good a time as any to start.

But the point is this: Any lament for a lost year really ought to lead to some consideration on how to make life suck a little less in the years to come. Already, there's been some chatter about whether we're about to enter a Roaring '20s redux. Who knows?

What hits hardest about 2020 isn't really the isolation, isn't really the time spent with the dog or listening to terrible neighbours fight or make out or whatever, it's that it's a year in which many of us didn't build much. The idea was eloquently expressed on Twitter by Milena Rodban, who wrote “Friendships are in limbo b/c despite zoom happy hours, we aren't actually making new memories and strengthening ties.”

The simplest possible way to plan for 2021, to make a commitment to making it better, without making promises that aren't likely to be kept, is to promise yourself this: It's as good a time as any, better, really, to commit to making new memories.

For my part, 2020 actually wasn't that bad. I got back into golfing (a lot) and mountain biking (less than I wanted). For all the times I missed hanging out with my friends (which was often) I spent more time with my cousin, who I hadn't seen this much of since we were kids.

Still, there are an awful lot of friends to see and an awful lot of new memories to make. The things that drove me insane in 2020 (neighbours loudly dumping one another, neighbours expressing their passion for one another, not having an office beyond my kitchen table, not having a yard for my dog) are the same things that, in an ideal world, mean at this time next year, maybe I'll be sitting in a nice little postwar-era house.

A year ago, I was a bit soured on travel — a crumby solo vacation to Japan had pretty much ended my desire to travel alone. Now, after a year in 700-square-feet, I'll go anywhere, as long as my view changes a bit. Maybe I will.

I think the ideal way to look back on 2020 — and ahead to 2021 — is with the knowledge that what was lost this year could mean something was gained by someone else: a missed Christmas might mean someone's grandma can be at next year's. That party that never happened was one less hangover, one more hour spent with a dog or a partner or reading a good book was one less time getting blind drunk.

The new year is when, hopefully, we can all gain back some of what we lost, explore the things we now realize — because we were forced to in 2020 — we really care about and appreciate and love.

And, we can go into 2021 realizing this, and it's of incalculable value: if the worst you can say is that it was a year lost to boredom, well, you — and I — are among the lucky ones.

ANY LAMENT FOR A LOST YEAR REALLY OUGHT TO LEAD TO SOME CONSIDERATION ON HOW TO MAKE LIFE SUCK A LITTLE LESS IN THE YEARS TO COME. ALREADY, THERE'S BEEN SOME CHATTER ABOUT WHETHER WE'RE ABOUT TO ENTER A ROARING '20s REDUX. — DAWSON HOPE: REASONS FOR OP TIMISM

MICHAEL M. SANTIAGO / GETTY IMAGES Another year has come and gone and as we do every December at this time we're counting down the days, hours, minutes and seconds until the new year.