Writing the New Year

When I was about 11 years old, I started keeping a diary. Most of what I wrote covered inanities such as where I went shopping with my mom, movies I watched, or even things I learned in school (on April 3, 1968 I apparently read a book about the 4^th dimension, relativity, space warps, “and all sorts of things”). But in addition to the fascinating facts of one child’s life, I had a new year’s tradition: every January 1^st, I would practice writing the new date on a page in the front of my diary.

I remember being captivated at watching the decade rollover from the 60s to the 70s (I was too young to be aware of the 50s to 60s change), and even looking down the road thirty years to the arrival of the year 2000 (when I would be SO OLD!). I can hardly believe another 15 years have passed since the non-event of Y2k.

My life has been a long series of changes since 2000. I was the mother of young (barely) adult children then—a year later I would become a first-time grandmother. I stayed busy running a pretty successful decorative painting business, and was having the time of my life traveling with my husband—we took trips to Hawaii and Mexico, and sailed along on Caribbean, Transatlantic and Panama Canal cruises. The grandchildren kept coming (I’m now up to nine!), and life was good!

Then in June 2007, my husband retired. In 2008, the economy crashed and took my business with it. I spent the next 12 months trying to figure out what to do with myself—and then in September of 2009, I took a deep breath and plunged back into a college classroom.

Since then, I’ve finished my BA, gotten an MA, traveled to Europe twice,  presented my work at conferences, traveled across the country to Iowa to do research, had papers published, and wrote a book. 

The tools of my trade have morphed from paint and brushes, to textbooks and papers, to words scribbled in notebooks or keyed into computers.

But this morning I realized something: Writing has always been beneath it all. From the words I penned into diaries and notebooks when I was a child, to journals I’ve kept as an adult and the detailed records I kept of clients, paint colors and design plans, and of course the book I’m currently revising—keeping track of my life through the written word has always defined me.

As I start another phase of my life in 2015, writing will again lead my way. I won’t be writing papers for classes anymore since my schooling (at least for the time being) is done, but I’ll definitely be exploring a lot new uses for it in my new position. I’ll also be working to find a publisher for my book.

But before I do anything else, I think I need to practice writing the new year:

2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015, 2015…