I began 2020 with a group hike to the top of Mirador Overlook in New Mexico’s Cerrillos Hills State Park. When the group reached the summit, we were provided with kazoos by the Park Ranger, on which we joyously played Auld Lang Syne, sending off the previous year and welcoming the new. At that moment, I had so much hope for 2020. Since kazoo playing is deemed a “super-spreader” activity the Park chose not to schedule a New Year’s Day hike to kick off 2021. This has left me a little bit confused. The hyped hope for 2021 is the promise of a return to normalcy, but I awoke this morning, my first awakening of 2021, to the prospect of a day alone like most of those I have survived during the past ten months.
My New Year’s Eve was spent watching comedians bid a comic farewell to the trials of 2020. I don’t mean to be a downer here, but so far 2021 seems like the greater portion of 2020. Granted, I could don warm clothing, a warm mask, and take myself for a hike but I would be alone, and without witnesses to my efforts and companions who could rescue me should I fall, it just doesn’t seem worth it. “And all the Whos down in Whoville [put on their masks] and cried boo-who-who.”
New Year’s Eve at my house included the burning of bayberry candles. It’s a long-standing tradition in my family: “Bayberry candles burnt to the socket, bring luck to the home and money to the pocket.” My family is the unluckiest, empty-pocketed candle burners in the Country. Traditionally, as we lit our candles and reflected on our bad luck of the previous year, we would quip that it could have been much worse if we hadn’t burnt our candles on the last day of the previous year. We’re afraid to take a risk, so we continue the candle-burning tradition. Last night, as the candles’ flames burned in the sockets of the candleholders, the heat generated resulted in an explosion of the candleholders which rivaled the sound of fireworks and gun shots that welcomed in 2021 in my neighborhood. As soon as I’m done here I’ll clean-up the luck infused glass shards that are scattered across my kitchen cooktop.
Welcome 2021. I’ll wish for the best. I won’t prepare for the worst, because I have glass shards to clean up so that I can get busy preparing black-eyed peas to ensure my continued luck. I refuse to be disheartened, because life is good. Now, that’s funny.
I’m so lucky that my bayberry candles burned to the socket before exploding my candleholders.
It's Me: Jennie Block Taylor 
About the aforementioned black-eyed peas. Here’s what happened when I tried to by them at Smith’s this past week. The store had sold out of them, and the employee who confirmed this fact seemed to be personally affected by the whole situation. He wanted to know if I EVEN KNEW why people eat black-eyed peas at the beginning of a new year, or if I just did it blindly like those who’d grabbed all the bags that had been previously stocked. Without waiting for an answer from this girl with more true-blue southern relatives than I really need, he filled me in — at high volume — on what I already knew about peas, collard greens and prosperity. Then, before I could defend myself and my upbringing, ANOTHER agitated employee said I was adhering to pagan tradition and declared me to be a witch. This was the best part, because I know and love many pagan folk and I consider witch-ness to be a good thing. What ruffled my feathers was the the IGNORANT WITCH inference created by the two verbal attacks combined.
So glad to get that off my chest.
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Well, they need some customer service training (as well as more black-eyed peas) at Smith’s. Those employees have a lot to learn. I hope you found, and enjoyed, black-eyed peas to kick off your New Year.
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I’m going to guess that they were male employees between 30 and 40 years of age.
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I’m not sure if you’re referring to the group hike participants (mixed group including families with children, up to octogenarians and lots of four-legged friends) or the comedians (all women – Prime’s “Yearly Departed”). ð
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I was referring to the Smiths employees that Jennifer Hill had encountered. I thought I had put my comment under her post in the reply area I guess I did not.
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Got it, and I bet you were right.
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Well, I forgot about black-eyed peas before they were sold out at Smith’s, and I never knew about the Bayberry candle burning. So I guess 2021 is going to be an F year for me! I am going to start shopping for black-eyed peas in November! LOL When the temperature is in 50s this week, I will open all my windows and doors and burn some Sage to get the negative energy out of my apartment. I am a witch in more ways than one! LOL
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Bummer about your beautiful candle holders!
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Happy New Year. Sorry about the unplanned “fireworks”! You are an eternal optimist, just like me. Let’s all trust for a much better 2021!
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Hope it’s not an omen!
I had my black eyed peas … for sure!
Sent from my iPhone
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Every New Year’s Day I make “Good-Luck Soup” with ham, black-eyed peas and cabbage (and a bunch of other stuff). I’m lucky (hah) in that I actually like black-eyed peas. I wish you a year filled with luck!
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