A Melancholy December 31, 2012

Rosa 'Coverdale', December 31, 2012

Good things seemed to have happened in 2012 for my wife Rosemary and her husband. But bad stuff happened, too so if I look at the year with objectivity and aided by the wet and gloomy weather of late I would assert that in the balance it was a lousy year.

That would not be a good way to end 2012 with this blog which I started in January 2006. I wasn’t too sure what blogging was all about then so I plodded for a while until I came to realize that a blog is nothing new. It is simply a “Dear Diary” without that endearing and old-fashioned beginning.

Strictly speaking my blog has not been a true diary in the absolute definition of what is a daily diary. I have missed days to go back at later date and fill in the days. And in many cases I have written blogs well in advance to the date of the day.

A blog then, or my blog, then, is my stream of consciousness but those who read must understand that I cannot be completely candid. There is such a thing as too much information or TMI as my friend Robert Blake calls it. I am not going to reveal to you if I pick my nose with my left or with my right index finger. I could be really candid if I did, but I do not think that such information would be of importance or relevance to my life as thrown over to you to read. If anything this idea of throwing over my life in your direction is but my attempt at looking back through the imaginary eyes of those who read this so that I can tell myself that I am being objective. In fact I have always thought that Shakespeare’s heroes and villains who speak in stream of consciousness do this so that the audience can weigh in and help relieve the stress of guilt or decision.

Today is a cold, gloomy and melancholy December 31st. I can remember other Decembers that are full of heat, a lovely humidity and the noise of ships in the port of my mother's Veracruz all sounding their ships’ whistles at the stroke of midnight. I can remember my dear Rosemary giving me 12 grapes, after our stroll on the Malecón, the boulvard by Veracruz's port,  which I was to eat, one at a time as, the clock struck 12 times. This is a Spanish custom that is supposed to guarantee 12 good months in a coming year.

I can remember being at Gary Taylor’s Rock Room facing the singer that used to go by the name of Bim reading the lyrics (he did not know them) of Auld Lang Syne. After this, since Rosemary and I were up front he sprayed us with Moët & Chandon. Three Polish sailors came up to me and told me I was the double for Roman Polanski. They demanded my address. For years I received a Christmas card from them congratulating the Roman Polanski who lived in Vancouver.

It was not too many years later that I began to think that I did not want to go to a loud place where people I did not know congregated. I did not want to hug people I did not know and wish them a happy new year.

A good new year’s evening is one that I share with my wife in bed. We read, discuss this and that and as soon as we feel sleepy, not matter if it happens to be 10, we turn off the lights.

And that’s it.

A little trip around my garden today found a bloom of English Rose, Rosa ‘Coverdale’ and some sprays of a China rose hybrid from Brentwood Bay Nursery. I placed them on my scanner and over them one of my mother’s Mexican rebozos. I think that this particularly blue one does wonders to bring out the lovely beauty of a rose that once was and that if things happen to go our way will result in the appearance of the same rose, in all its glory come June, 2013.