When did New Year’s resolutions begin? Perhaps as Adam and Eve left their garden, she was inspired to make the first one: to never eat any more apples or any kind of strange fruit. Maybe it was Lot, who, suddenly having a lot more salt than anyone needed, vowed always to look straight ahead and never to look back. Or it could have been William Tell’s son, who, after his lucky day, promised to stay away from archery fields, apples and people with bows and arrows.
Some 80 years ago, my mother decided I should try to improve myself by making some resolutions. I’ve been making them ever since, so this year will be no exception. Many parts of the old list continue to need work, so I usually dig out last year’s promises, change the date at the top, and add a few new self-betterment aims.
Resolutions seem to be similar for most anyone: to do more of the good stuff (like working harder, dieting, being more productive) and to do less of the bad (like smoking, drinking, overeating).
My limited success in changing my behavior always feels good, but failing merely means that I can start over tomorrow or next week or maybe a year from now. There is no punishment for those who make and break their promises to themselves, especially if – like me – the promises have not been divulged to any one else. Would I be more likely to succeed if I didn’t keep my 2007 aims private? Perhaps. It’s worth trying, so I resolve:
1. To be on time, and to be more patient with those who are often late (friends, relatives, doctors keeping their appointments, access-a-Ride drivers, and those who mail checks).
2. To conserve utilities like water, light and gas, plus other energy – especially my own. (The dust on the piano does not need to be disturbed so often and the vacuum cleaner will last years longer if left unplugged.)
3. To keep my mouth closed when eating, sleeping, or when tempted to give unasked-for advice; to talk less, listen more, and to hear silent body language; and to remember that my sharp tongue can cut deeply.
4. To get rid of the unused stuff that fills my closets and cupboards as well as the old notions that clutter my brain, like assumptions that race always predetermines one’s skills; that males make better doctors and females better nurses; that there are no honest politicians; and that newspaper, theater and restaurant critics are infallible and know better than the rest of us.
5. To quit clinging to the past (as wonderful as it was) and concentrate on making the present wonderful too by ridding my vocabulary of the “should haves,” “could haves,” “might haves” and “if onlys” – words that keep alive missed opportunities and old regrets. As an adage says, “One can be as unhappy as he decides to be.”
6. To make new friends by reaching out to the newcomers in the neighborhood and elsewhere, especially because the number of dear old friends continues to shrink.
7. To seek different experiences, perhaps as simple as trying a new recipe every week, changing the style of my glasses, painting a wall in the living room scarlet, trying decoupage, signing up for a class in Mayan history or finally taking that long dreamed of flight in a hot air balloon.
8. To be more aware of the dangers in my life – not just throw rugs, green onions and lettuce, but of carjackers and identity thieves as well as the perils of over-using my credit card and under-using self control around chocolates.
9. To do something useful like reading instead of mentally reviewing my dirty-words vocabulary when a customer-service representative puts my call on a long hold. Near the phone is a copy of an encyclopedic dictionary. So far I’ve become familiar with aardvarks, abbeys and aboriginals. My next word is “aburbe condita,” and there are only 1,900 more pages before I’ll have to start over or find a new book, but if present service continues … .
10. To stop procrastinating.
On second thought, maybe I’ll wait until 2008 to try that one.
Louise Turnbull is a Denver native and retired teacher who has written commercial film scripts and an animated television special.
