This is the journal entry I wrote for the beginning of a new year.
January 1, 2024
It’s New Year’s Day. People get all excited when a new year
begins. I don’t. I don’t for two reasons. One is that all that happens on New
Year’s Day is that a number changes on a totally arbitrary calendar. The other
is that there is no reason to believe that 2024 will be any better than 2023
was, and 2023 sucked. 2024 begins with wars in Gaza, where Israel is
essentially committing genocide, Ukraine, and no doubt elsewhere. Neither of
those wars is likely to end any time soon. The big danger 2024 brings is that
this fascist-leaning country will elect fascist Donald Trump president and give
him a majority in both houses of Congress. If that happens, the United States
is finished as a functioning democracy, and the harm the Republicans will do
will take decades at least to undo. 2024 may not be bad for me and Jane
personally. Jane may retire when she turns 65 in October. We’ll miss her
income, modest as it is, but we’ll be OK financially, mostly thanks to Social
Security, which the Republicans want to destroy. I’ll turn 78, but as far as I
know, I have not life-threatening conditions at the moment. Yes, lots of
medical issues, but they’re all under control for now at least. Matt turns 50
tomorrow, which is a bit hard to get my head around. I vaguely remember turning
50 myself, though that was in 1996, a very bad year for me. I actually remember
turning 40 better. That was in 1986. I was working for Gibson, Dunn, and
Crutcher. I don’t think turning 40 meant much to me, but then I see now that 40
is actually quite young. 78 isn’t. But when Dad turned 78 he still have 14
years to live. When Mom turned 78, she still had seven years to live. So, with
any luck, I’ve still got a few to go. The end is a hell of a lot closer than it
has ever been, but then I’m younger today than I’ll ever be again. So, we’ll
see what 2024 brings. I don’t know that it will bring anything good. I just
hope it doesn’t bring anything too bad.
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